The Beginning
by cmol8806
Summary: Sequel to Healing Two Souls. Life for the two B's in thier twenties. Summaries are so hard lol
1. Chapter 1

**Here is the sequel to Healing Two Souls (I really suck at choosing titles lol). It's five years later. This is sort of an in between from my last story and the beginning of the show though I'm changing some stuff (as you'll soon see). Thanks harper83, you rule! Okay *deep breath* here we go….**

**Chapter 1**

A brisk wind sweeps over the treetops, a soft rustling sounding in the quiet late afternoon. A beautiful stone angel rises from the green grass, it's serene smiling face bent down towards the two plaques at its base. Only the left-hand plaque has been inscribed and underneath the words is a bouquet of pink roses: her favorite.

Booth smiles ever so slightly at the sight, knowing they are from his grandfather. Hank visits the grave at least twice a week, always bringing at least one of her favorite flower. Booth steps forward and lays his own bouquet under the stone, placing his fingers over the words.

**Elizabeth Wendy Booth**

_**Loving wife, mother and grandmother**_

_Booth laughs as he walks up the steps to his grandparents' house, flinching slightly as Brennan hits his arm for laughing at her pop culture cluelessness. He knows she isn't truly angry but just to make sure he wraps his arm around her waist to pull her close and kisses her neck._

_It's two weeks after Angela and Jack's wedding and everything is starting to get back to normal. They have become very good at having veiled conversations about serious topics and for now Booth is willing to continue that method. For now he is still basking in the joy of having her there every night and morning._

"_Why do you always tease me?" Brennan asks him in an injured tone though she leans into his embrace._

"_Cause you're so damn cute," he chuckles. "We'll rent the movie tonight, okay?"_

"_A movie about aliens and a secret government agency that regulates them," Brennan muses, scrunching her face and making him chuckle more. "Sounds like a movie Hodgins would make."_

"_Oh yeah, I bet he has the special edition-directors cut or something," Booth laughs, walking into the house. His smile falls off his face as they enter the living room and find Hank and Lizzie sitting with somber looks. _

"_Seeley, Temperance," Hank says, standing up. The use of Booth's first name from his grandfather instantly makes him nervous, knowing that something serious is happened. "We weren't…I thought you were coming later, for dinner?"_

"_What's going on?" Booth ignores the question, walking closer to his uncharastically quiet grandmother as his heart starts to pound in his ears. "What's wrong?"_

"_You're still sick," Brennan says quietly from behind him, her eyes trained on Lizzie._

"_Still sick? What do you-" Booth looks between the two women, his agitation visibly increasing? "Grams."_

"_Sit down and I'll explain," she finally says, waiting for them do so before speaking again. "I just got the results back earlier. We were just discussing what…how we would tell you."_

_She takes a deep breath and looks directly into Booth's eyes, her brown gaze holding more strength than he has ever seen from her before. "I have ovarian cancer."_

"_What?" Booth's voice is a whisper, his face slack with denial. He looks at Pops but quickly looks away, not able to stand the look of fear and pain the man's eyes._

"_Ovarian cancer," Lizzie says again, her voice gentler. "I thought I had a really bad stomach bug but it wouldn't go away and just got worse. I finally went to the doctor a few weeks ago and ran some tests."_

"_Cancer?" His head is reeling, trying and failing to grasp the enormity of what is happening. He feels Brennan shift next to and looks over, surprised to find how composed she looks._

"_What stage?" Brennan asks and in her voice Booth's hears her fear for the woman she has come to consider her grandmother._

"_Stage two but the cells are grade three," Lizzie explains. "What that means is…"_

_Booth looks towards the black television, the buzzing in his ears drowning out everything around him. He doesn't know what to do what to say. The only thing he can think of in that moment is that he needs to go to church and light every candle he can find. Brennan's hand slides into his and squeezes and he returns it, knowing that he needs to concentrate. He vows he will do whatever he can to help her._

Shaking the memory away, Booth stands, placing his hands into his suit pockets and fingering the old family lighter Lizzie had given him. He looks to the left as a movement catches his eye. It is a couple about his age walking hand in hand towards a grave, a bouquet of lilies in the woman's hand. Watching the couple pay their respects to their loved one makes Booth wish for Brennan's presence. He can't be angry though, knowing she would be here if she could just as she has every month before.

He turns away from the strangers to give them privacy though his mind stays on his girlfriend. He briefly thinks back on everything that has happened over the past five years since Lizzie had told them of her illness. He doesn't know how he could have gotten through it without Brennan. His sense of loss was almost overwhelming and in his grief he made many mistakes, one so huge he doesn't know why Brennan had stayed after.

Another gust of wind travels over him, this time with a slight bite of chill and draws him back to the moment. Wanting to be home in time to cook for Brennan, Booth refocuses on the grave in front of him. Clearing his throat he begins to talk, informing his Grams of everything that has happened in the month since his last visit.

* * *

><p>Brennan quickly slams her car door and presses the button to lock it. Shifting the book bag on her shoulder she starts to walk into the apartment building she and Booth have lived in for the past five years. Entering the elevator she cant help but feel a small thrill of excitement at which suit the young FBI agent might be wearing, having left before he did that morning to reach her first class on time. He only has three (two of which were gifts from Hank and the Hodgins couple) but only one is a different color and it just happens to be her favorite.<p>

Tired from the long day, Brennan leans back as the elevator surges upwards and reflects on her life for just a moment. Everyday she is still surprised at how much she loves the life she has, the life she shares with the man she fell in love with when she was eighteen. At that time, though she wished it were possible, she never truly thought they would last as long as they have. The time hasn't been easy, the tragedy of Lizzie's passing hard on both of them but through it all they have stuck together.

_The strange odor of antiseptic feels as if it will forever be clogged in her nostrils as Brennan quickly walks out of the hospital room, leaving Hank and Jared to their grief. Her blue eyes blink back tears as she strides along the hallway, hoping that she is going in the same direction Booth had taken._

_The twenty-one year old sucks in a shuddering breath of grief as she turns a corner, quickening her strides as she glimpses Booth's wide shoulders. His name must have slipped her lips because he stops, turning around to face her. Her heart suffers a horrible clench of pain at his lost red rimmed eyes. He stands still, shoulders hunched as he waits for her to catch up._

"_Where are you going?" she asks, her own voice full of tears._

"_I don't know. No where. I just…" he looks back towards the room they just left, shaking his head. "That's not how I want to remember her. That's not my Grams. Grams was-was-"_

"_I know," she says, grabbing his hand and pulling him to the side of the hallway. "I'm so sorry, Booth."_

"_Why did she…" Booth clenches his teeth, clutching the back of his neck with both hands as he paces. "Three years. I read up on it, you know. A lot of people beat it and even more get years, decades after being diagnosed. Why did she only get three years?"_

"_Grade three has a high-"_

"_I know, Bones!" Booth snaps, his voice cracking. "I don't need your textbook explanation right now!"_

_Brennan feels stung and turns away to leave him alone. But Booth grabs her elbow and spins her around, holding her close and burying his face into her neck. She holds just as tightly, letting her tears fall onto his shoulder. It doesn't matter in that moment how much warning they were given of Lizzie's eventual passing, they lost someone they both loved and their hearts were hurting. _

"_It's not fair," Booth sobs into her skin, his voice muffled. "I've lost two mothers."_

_Brennan just holds him tighter, feeling the same._

Brennan still feels a pang at the pain Booth had went through two years ago, of the set back he had a few weeks after the funeral. He was so angry then but had nothing and no one to take it out on except himself. She can only be grateful that he finally pulled out of it without too much damage to his own heart and soul. She doesn't know what fully happened during that one dark week before Booth seemed to turn himself around but whatever it was he punished himself for it for a long time. In fact it is only recently that the old Booth seems to be back full force, something Brennan has taken full advantage of.

The elevator opens and Brennan walks to the door in quick strides, a habit she has picked up over her years of college. She places her keys in the lock but pulls them out as the sound of Tom Petty announces Booth's presence inside. After entering and shedding herself of the excess weight, she follows the music to the kitchen and tilts her head in admiration of Booth's well-muscled butt sticking out of the freezer. Her blood pumps a little faster at the color of the suit pants: charcoal gray, her favorite.

"Have you found anything good in there?" she asks, crossing her arms and moving to stand directly behind him, leaning against the table.

"Nothing edible," Booth replies standing up and frowning down at the bag in his hands. "Just some ancient bagels. We really need to shop more often.

"Hey, you look good," he smiles, looking over at the twenty-three year old he loves. Their schedules had been so busy for the past few weeks they had hardly seen each other. He tosses the bagels in the trash and walks over, his eyes turning dark as she slides onto the table. "I guess its take out again tonight."

"We're going to get fat," Brennan warns, her blue eyes sparkling at him as he draws close to her.

"I doubt it," he chuckles huskily, running his hands up her thighs as he steps between them. "We're young, in our prime."

"Well, you're twenty-eight," she teases, fingering his dice covered tie. "You're edging close to the end of your prime."

"Mean," he shakes his head, his hands resting on her hips as hers remove his tie.

"Truth," she says pointedly, smoothing her palms over his chest. "How was work?"

"Ugh, paper work," he grimaces. "How was your meeting with your professor? You didn't get in trouble for passing notes did ya?"

"I don't pass notes," she says seriously, not catching on to his joke. Her eyes travel to her fingers on his shoulder holster. "It wasn't a meeting. Professor Stires needed my help grading papers."

"Yeah I'm sure," Booth grumbles his dislike for the young professor well known between the two of them.

"I like when you wear the shoulder holster," Brennan says matter of factly, ignoring his annoyance with her teacher. "I find myself very…aroused when I know you have it on."

"Really?" Booth smirks, having never known this before.

"Yes, really," she whisper seductively before leaning forward and kissing him deeply. As with every kiss they have shared, it is almost as if it's the first and both hope that the feeling never goes away.

Booth groans into her mouth, one hand digging into her hair to tilt her head back. Her mouth opens more fully and he takes full advantage, ravishing her mouth until she releases the throaty moan that drives him nuts. Almost as if a switch has been flicked, they both start undressing each other in frenzy, mouths never separating for more than a second. Booth pushes her back onto the table and trails his mouth down to her full breasts, his hands working on undoing her pants when a beeping sounds from the left pocket. Brennan reaches down to retrieve it, encouraging Booth to continue by wrapping her legs around his waist.

"Hello?" Brennan answers, trying to hide her breathlessness.

"Hey Bren," Angela's cheerful voice sounds, a hint of excitement on the edge. "Do you want to go out, have dinner?"

"I, uh, I cant," Brennan gets out, her eyes rolling as Booth removes her pants and continues to plant kisses on her skin.

"Oh! Well, no worries. Lunch tomorrow?"

"Yes!" Brennan bites her lip to hold in her scream as Booth removes her panties and tastes her.

"Okay," Angela chuckles, her saucy smirk clear in her voice. "Have fun!"

"Finally," Booth growls as the phone is hung up, grabbing her legs and pulling her to the edge of the table. "Come here."

**So its short, just wanted to sort of introduce the timeline and stuff. The blanks will be filled within the next few chapters, don't worry. I hope you guys like it, please let me know. But really, don't be mean. I don't know how long this will be though I don't see it being as long as Healing Two Souls. Okay, I'm going to go hide and have a panic attack from posting lol**


	2. Chapter 2

**The response to the first chapter was just…WOW! Thank you all so much. I'm sorry I haven't posted sooner but life has been chaos and then I had to get a new computer (which means I lost all of my files so I had to rewrite this chapter). A lot of you had theories on Booth's mistake (which I didn't mean to make a big deal lol) and a few were so interesting I considered going that way. But I ended up deciding on sticking with what I had planned, I hope you still like it lol. And I will say this now, I promise that Booth will never cheat on Brennan. Also, I just want to say that hate the title! lol**

**Thanks to harper83 and musicnlyrics!**

**Chapter 2**

Adjusting the strap to her new favorite brown leather purse, Angela Montenegro-Hodgins enters the pleasantly crowded diner. Her dark curls bounce as she all but skips to the table her friend occupies. Walking up behind Brennan and seeing the web page she has on her laptop, Angela's excited and happy smile falls off her face and she sighs, shaking her head. She sits down next to her friend, leaning her head on her hand.

"Its Saturday," she says in a firm tone, raising one eyebrow.

"I know," Brennan says with a frown, turning away from her laptop.

"You're having lunch with your best friend. Why are you researching…" Angela squints to read the words on the screen and then flinches back, covering her eyes. "Oh god, Bren!"

"Well, you shouldn't have looked," Brennan smiles, closing the laptop and hiding the pictures of remains from her sight.

"You have no idea how badly I wished I hadn't," Angela says with a grimace, looking a little queasy. "We're in a restaurant Brennan, why are you looking at…that?"

"I'm helping Michael with a research paper and since you were late I thought-"

"Whoa, hang on. Who the hell is Michael?" Angela frowns in confusion.

"Professor Stires. He told me to call him Michael." Brennan looks away as the waitress walks up to their table, a friendly smile on her face. "I'll have the Caesar salad and an iced tea please."

"Same," Angela smiles briefly before redirecting her attention to Brennan. "So how does Booth feel about you working so closely with 'Michael'?"

"He's fine with it, why wouldn't he be?" Brennan asks with a confused frown, knowing from Angela's expression that she's missing something.

"It seemed to me that Booth was a little jealous of Stires," Angela informs her friend.

"Why?" Brennan tilts her head. "Michael may have more conventional intelligence but Booth is obviously the superior male. Booth is around women more conventionally beautiful than me and I don't get jealous."

"Men aren't like us. They're much more fragile and needy." An amused grin crosses her face. "The fact that they think _we're_ the needy ones is a testament to our superiority."

"Yeah, I guess I forgot," Brennan chuckles.

"Right," Angela smiles then sits up straighter, taking a deep breath. "Sweetie can you please ask me how I am, please?"

"I already know," Brennan says with a straight face. "You're nauseous from seeing the pictures on my computer."

"And because I'm pregnant," Angela says with a wide toothy smile.

Brennan stares at her for second with wide eyes, absorbing the words. Then with a smile crossing her face she leans over to hug her friend, eliciting a chuckle from the artist. Angela hugs back, blinking back tears as the fears and excitement again sweep through her.

"I hope you're hugging me cause you're excited to be an aunt," she says with a teary laugh.

"I'd have to be your sister to do that," Brennan says pulling back, a smile breaking over face, as she understands. "Oh, which I am! Metaphorically."

"Bright happy smiles, just what we love to see," their waitress says happily, setting their plates down in front of them.

"She's pregnant," Brennan informs her.

"Brennan," Angela spins to her with wide eyes, surprising her friend.

"Was it a secret?" Brennan asks worriedly, turning back to the waitress. "It was a secret."

"Well, congratulations. The meals are on the house," she says with a small smile before walking away.

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine sweetie," the young artist reassures her, patting her hand apologetically. "I'm just…I haven't told Hodgins yet."

"Well, anthropologically speaking, women often confide in other women before broaching sensitive subjects with their mates," Brennan says in a matter of fact tone. She sees the nerves on her friend's face and softens her tone. "He's going to be very happy."

"Yeah," she smiles wistfully.

"Are you?" Brennan asks cautiously, never truly trusting her assessments of others feelings.

"Of course I am. Its just scary you know?" Angela says in a soft voice of wonder. "I'm going to be a mother."

Brennan smiles softly, happy for her friends. "Technically you already are."

* * *

><p>"I hate the mall," Booth grumbles to himself as he once again narrowly misses being stampeded by a group of chattering teenage girls.<p>

He knows his irritation is rising from his nerves over the reason he is there than the actual people but he doesn't really care. He stops in front of the window display of another jewelry store and stuffs his hands in his pockets. Observing the glittering stones in front of him Booth nods to himself, finally feeling like he may have found the right store.

This is something he knows he should have done before but circumstances and bad choices had delayed it. He grimaces with guilt as he remembers the week he had disappeared to Vegas a few months after his Grams had passed, leaving Brennan with only a brief note about his whereabouts. Even now he still feels sick to his stomach imagining her face when she read the note or when he ignored one of her numerous phone calls. The only voicemail message she left, her voice filled with fear over Hank being in the hospital with a bad chest infection, finally broke him out of his daze and brought him home. He still has a bitter taste in his mouth over having to ask her to pay his way back as he had spent all of his money gambling, including his savings for an engagement ring.

Though he was thankfully able to repair the damage to his relationships with both Hank and Brennan, it was months before he could even think about starting to save for a ring again. Working for the FBI made the saving go by much quicker but life had gotten incredibly busy and before he knew it two years had passed without that next step being taken.

But, he has decided that now is the right time to propose. Brennan is months from getting her doctorate and he has an established reputation in the Bureau. He savings are enough for a beyond decent ring and in a few months they can afford a nice wedding and honeymoon. At least that's the plan, he tells himself as he takes a deep breath, not letting his mind wander to the what-if situation of her saying no.

"Hey Booth," a voice says from behind him, breaking him from his thoughts.

"Hodgins," he nods to the blue-eyed man he now calls his friend, though he very rarely admits it. "Nice to see you out in the real world."

"I'm always in the real world, I just look at it through a microscope," Hodgins retorts with an easy grin. "So why are you in this godforsaken place on your day off?"

"Why are you?" Booth hedges. He narrows his eyes as the young scientist holds up a large gallon of green liquid. "Do I want to know what the hell that is?"

"Its limeade from the food court," Hodgins says chuckles. "Angie loves it and it's easier to have some at home rather than travel back and forth everyday. We've been doing it for years."

He steps over to stand next to Booth, setting the plastic container at their feet. "So I'm guessing that your presence here means the girls are still having lunch?"

"Yep," Booth nods, sighing as he see Hodgins look at the jewelry store and back at him.

"Dude," he says with realization, eyes wide and a smile forming. "Are you buying a ring? Its about damn time."

"Yeah, thanks," Booth says irritably, back to the display.

"Want some help picking it out?" At Booth's glare Hodgins holds up his hands. "Hey, I'm just trying to help you get the best. There's a lot to consider: cut, clarity-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Are you going to be able to keep your mouth shut about this from Angela?" Booth pierces him with a very intimidating stare, blinking only when he receives a nod. "Okay. Come on."

"Alright," Hodgins smiles smugly as he picks up his limeade and follows the agent into the store. "And hey, if you need any advice on how to propose it's best to ask someone who's already done it."

"Yeah, I'll be sure to call Angela if I have any questions. She had to like something from your proposals before she did it herself." Booth chuckles as the smiles falls off Hodgins face and is replaced with a frown.

**Yes its short but I think all of the chapters will be about this size. The next chapter should be better.**


	3. Chapter 3

**So I'm going to write a little one-shot of Hodgins finding out about Angela being pregnant. I would have put it in this story but it just wouldn't fit. It will be up later today or tomorrow (hopefully). **

**Thanks to musicnlyrics for dealing with my crazy mind lol**

**I don't own anything that is recognizable **

**Chapter 3**

The large open room is filled with the buzz of conversation and ringing phones, FBI agents weaving their way through the hive of desks. In the middle of it all Booth is leaning over his small desk, filling out a form from the seemingly endless pile in front of him. He scrawls his signature at the bottom and throws down his pen, leaning back in his chair with a sigh. Its times like this, with his hand cramping that he feels like filing a suit of false advertisement; being a cop is supposed to be all about car chases and getting the bad guy. He smiles to himself at the thought of what Brennan's response to that would be.

He picks up his cell from its spot on the desk, scrolling through until he pulls up his favorite picture of his girlfriend. It is a fairly recent picture, taken the previous month on a random weekend. She is sitting on one of their kitchen chairs, her laptop balanced on her long bare legs. Her shoulder length auburn hair is tousled and she is clad only in one of his shirts, the material wrinkled. But his favorite thing about it is the look on her face, an excited and happy smile after passing an online quiz about the Smurfs cartoon. It was after taking that picture that he started his proposal planning.

Feeling it burning a hole in his pocket, Booth pulls out the silver ring he had finally found after searching over a dozen stores. He holds it between his fingers, watching the light sparkle off the diamond shaped sapphire in the middle. It is a classic design almost identical to the diamond ring his grandmother was given many years before. Looking at the piece of jewelry, knowing what it represents makes his stomach tighten with longing and fear of rejection. The ringing of his desk phone pulls him from his thoughts and he closes his fist around the ring as he answers.

"Agent Booth," he says, placing the ring back into his pocket.

"Booth, in my office now," the gruff voice of his superior has Booth instantly straightening in his chair.

"Yes sir," he says as he stands up. He hangs up the phone with one hand and grabs his jacket off the back of his chair with the other.

Inside his office, Deputy Director Sam Cullen looks down at the file in front of him and shakes his head in distaste. Hearing the knock on his door he doesn't even bother to look up to call out his invitation of entrance. After a few moments of silence he finally looks up, closing the file and tossing it aside.

"Sit down Booth," he points at the pair of chairs in front of him, picking up another open file from his desk. "You were the lead in the April Wright case. Do you remember it?"

"Yes sir," Booth says in a somber tone, recalling not only the sad circumstances of the case but also the dark place he was at that time. "Over two years ago seventeen year old April Wright was found beaten to death with a tire iron in a federal park. Evidence pointed to Howard Epps who was convicted and is on death row."

"If that's the best you can remember I suggest you reacquaint yourself with the details," Cullen says as he leans his arms on his desk, his voice not betraying how impressed he is at how the young agent had handled that case.

"Sir?"

"Howard Epps' new lawyer is filing for an appeal."

"What? They can't be serious?" Booth says in angry disbelief. "Sir, I did everything by the book-"

"It's his constitutional right, not a reflection on your performance as an agent," Cullen interrupts a little harshly.

"Yes, sir," Booth says, his leg bouncing slightly in agitation.

"It probably wont go to trail but if it does it wont be for months," Cullen sighs, closing the file and then looking sternly at the younger man. "The damn lawyers will be asking you questions soon though. Be prepared."

"Yes, sir." Recognizing the dismissal Booth rises and leaves.

* * *

><p>Too frustrated to sit back at his desk Booth instead takes his lunch early and leaves to pick up Brennan. After texting her to find where she is, he finds a parking spot at the college and uses the walk to her classroom to help himself ease his dark mood.<p>

The Epps case, as he thinks of it in his mind, was the first case where he was the lead investigator and it was more challenging than he expected it to be. He clenches his hand for a second as he walks; he really doesn't need to be reminded of that time. It was the case he closed just before he left for Vegas, the weight of that case added with the emotions of losing his grandmother becoming too much for him. He refuses to see this news as an omen of his proposal.

He feels his tense muscle start to relax as he reaches her classroom and he stays a few feet away as students exit. He nods with a smile to familiar faces, this not being the first time he has waited for his girlfriend after class. The final student walks out and Booth waits a few moments for Brennan to exit, rolling his eyes when she doesn't and stepping forward to enter the room.

Almost instantly he tenses again. Brennan is standing at the podium in the front with her bag over her shoulder, talking to Michael Stires as the professor hovers close to her. Walking over Booth sees Brennan's eyes lighten up at something Stires says and has to control the urge to run over and smash the smile off the man's face. Seeing movement from the corner of her vision Brennan turns and smiles at her boyfriend.

"Hi. You're here sooner than I thought," she tells him, accepting his longer than usual kiss and his arm around her waist.

"Traffic was light. Professor Stires," Booth nods at the other man, standing up as tall as he can.

"Agent Booth," he returns a patronizing smile on his face that sets Booth's teeth on edge.

"Michael and I were just discussing my thesis," Brennan tells him. "He is being very helpful."

"Well, you barely need my help," Michael compliments her, looking Booth straight in the eyes with a smug look. "She's brilliant. I've taught her well."

"Yeah, well she's always been brilliant," Booth says through a forced smile. "You ready for lunch, babe?"

"Yes. Thank you for the suggestions Michael," she says over her shoulder as Booth guides her out.

"Anytime Tempe," he says, smiling at Booth when he looks over his shoulder.

The drive together is mostly quite, Booth concentrating on the road as Brennan flips through a forensic anthropology journal she has in her bag. Seeing an interesting fact she feels Booth would appreciate Brennan looks over, frowning at the tight clench of his jaw. Closing the journal she shifts to face him better.

"Did something happen at work?" she asks, surprising him.

"What makes you ask that?"

"You seem very agitated, almost angry," she replies, sounding slightly worried.

"It…It's nothing. Work is fine," he says with a sigh. Wanting to keep their lunch enjoyable he sends her a small smile. "I'm stuck at the desk today. You know I hate paperwork."

Brennan tilts her head as she looks at him; her face scrunched in what he calls her 'squinty' face. He shifts a little in his seat, a little uncomfortable with her look. Though she still has trouble reading other people she knows him and Booth is highly aware of that.

"You shouldn't be jealous," she says bluntly, remembering her conversation with Angela.

"What?" he glances at her in confusion as they pull into the parking lot of Wong Foo's.

"Of Michael."

"What? I am not jealous of Stires," Booth laughs off as he parks, hoping his bitter tone doesn't creep through.

"I'm his top student, we share a love of science. Michael and I are practically colleagues," Brennan continues, stepping out of the car and waiting for him to walk around the large SUV.

"Yeah, I know and that's great," Booth says as casually as he can, placing his hand on her back as they walk. "But I am _not _jealous _Michael_, alright?"

"Good. Because I'm in love with _you_," she says softly, stopping to face him as they enter the dimly lit restaurant. "I don't want you to ever doubt that."

"I wont-I don't. Hey," he places his hand under her chin, a gesture that has become a habit between the two that they both love. He smiles into her eyes, his other hand resting on her hip. "I wake up everyday feeling like the luckiest guy in the world because I know you love me. And I love you right back. I have no doubts about that."

"If you weren't bothered by Michael then something happened at work," Brennan speaks in the same soft voice, grabbing his wrist when he lowers his hand and piercing him with her eyes. "Tell me."

"A murderer that I arrested is filing for an appeal and it…it bothers me," he admits, hoping she won't ask for the details of the case. "I know he did it and the fact that he thinks he wont have to pay for it…"

"You're good at your job," she soothes him, their fingers linking without thought. "Justice will be served."

Booth nods his acceptance, feeling a little better at her words. But he doesn't want a somber mood to hover over their lunch so he smiles, tilting his head as his eyes twinkle at her. "'Justice will be served'? Maybe we should stop watching those action movies."

"Booth," she smiles, pushing against his chest. He captures her hands and leans forward, kissing her deeply.

"Awww." A voice from behind has them breaking apart to look at Angela's smiling face. "You know, if you're going to have a noon-er it's traditional to go home first."

"What's a noon-er?" Brennan asks, though she thinks she knows when her friend's eyebrows start to wiggle.

Booth looks down as he cell begins to ring. "It's work. Damn it."

"You probably shouldn't have taken an early lunch." Booth just gives her a look and steps away as he answers.

"Let's sit down," Angela suggests, leading the way to a table. "Hey, Sid."

"Ladies," the large man nods from his spot at the bar, tilting his head with a small smile towards Angela.

"Booth's here too," Brennan informs him, pointing behind her.

"No problem, food will be right out," he says, still with that mysterious smile.

"Did you tell Booth?" Angela asks in a soft voice, leaning close to her friend.

"No," she answers with wide eyes. "Of course not. Why?"

"Nothing, forget it," Angela smiles, shaking her head. "I told my dad."

"What did he say?" Brennan chuckles.

"He was happy," she laughs a little, still surprised that at how normal he reacted. "Hodgins got a package from him today. Cigars and top of the line beer. Not that I could have any."

"Why? You don't drink beer anymore?" Booth jokes as he joins the pair.

The best friends exchange wide-eyed looks, smiles playing around their mouths. "Um…"

Booth looks between them, a grin spreading over his face. "No…"

"And he just got it," Angela chuckles, her face glowing with happiness.

"Hey, congratulations!" Booth laughs as he stands, pulling her to her feet for a hug. "That's so great!"

"Thanks. Listen, Hodgins wants to have this big dinner to announce it" Angela pulls back, looking at her two friends. "So you have to act surprised when he tells you, okay?"

"Promise," Booth chuckles, leaning in to kiss her cheek. "You're going to be a great mom."

"Thanks," Angela smiles fighting back to tears that always seem ready to fall these days. "And I'm sure the baby will love being babysat by their Uncle Seeley and Auntie Bren."

"I bought the baby a onesie today," Brennan admits with a small blush.

"Really?" Angela laughs, completely surprised.

"Yes. I saw it and…couldn't stop myself." She reaches into her bag, a large smile on her face. "It's very humorous."

She holds it out to allow the others to read it, her blue eyes bright with anticipation of their laughter. Two stick figures are on the front, the picture identifying them as atoms, dialogue boxes floating in between. The first atom thinks he lost an electron and when asked if he was sure the reply is yes because he is positive.

"Do you get it?" Brennan asks when they don't laugh. "He's positive. It's very funny."

"I get it," Angela shakes her head with a smile, taking from her friend. "It's cute, thanks Bren."

"Hodgins will love it, I'm sure," Booth chuckles.

As Sid arrives with their food and congratulations for the expectant mother, Booth leans back with his hand settling over place the silver ring rests in his pocket. His smile stays in place, for he is happy at the news but he mentally sighs, pushing back his plans to allow his friends to celebrate. He looks over at a smiling Brennan and thinks one word: soon.

**Okay, I don't know when I'll have the next part up. My family does this cookie exchange things (have been for almost 20 years!) and the competition is fierce. Wish me luck!**


	4. Chapter 4

**I am so sorry about how long it took for me to post! Trust me, it's a Christmas miracle that this was posted now instead of much later. My muse is acting funny, I have to hand write it first otherwise my mind is just completely blank, so its time consuming. Thanks for the nice words about my family's cookie exchange but sadly we didn't win (we were robbed! Lol). I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday season! **

**Chapter 4**

Angela bounces along to the beat from her ipod, her hair swinging in its ponytail on the back of her head. She pulls a carton of orange juice from the fridge and bounces over to the counter and the cup she already has waiting. She sings under her breath as she pours, breaking off with a wide smile as a pair of arms wrap around her waits. She pulls the ear buds out as she turns, humming against her husband's mouth as they kiss.

"Hi" she says with a suggestive lilt to her voice.

"Morning, baby." Hodgins kisses her lips again briefly then drops to his knees, kissing her stomach loudly. "And how are you this morning?"

"Not giving Mommy morning sickness for once, thank god," Angela sighs, running her hands over his shoulders while he continues to kiss her stomach. "Are you going to stay down there long? Cause I'm kind of hungry here."

"Oh right, okay," Hodgins rises with the same large smile on his face that he has been wearing for the past two weeks. "Okay, baby, go sit and tell me what you want to eat. Your wish is my command."

"Jack, honey, listen." Cradling his face in her hands she looks in his eyes, unable to hold back a smile at the love shining from his deep blue gaze. ""I love you and I love how you want to make sure I'm completely comfortable, you know doing everything for me. But I can make my own cereal."

"I know, I know. But I still cant believe it," Jack looks down, smiling as he places his hand on her stomach. "A baby. We're having a baby."

"Well get use to it," she says with a chuckle, turning back around for her juice. "Cause I want about a million of them."

"What does that mean, like two? Joking," he quickly says at her arched look. "I am looking forward to having two million as long as they're with you."

"Good," Angela laughs, putting the juice away.

"Look at all of us, being all grown up," Hodgins muses, getting a bowl down for his wife. "We're having a baby, Booth's proposing to Brennan, and Zack…well Zack is Zack. He's on a level all his own."

Angela closes the refrigerator with a snap, a shocked expression on her face. "Excuse me? What did you just say?"

"Um." Hodgins blinks his wide eyes, trying to find a way out of his slip.

"Oh my god!" Angela squeals, hopping in place. "Oh, its about time! Jack! How long have you known about this? Did you see the ring?"

"Uh, a few weeks," he admits hesitantly, not sure how she will take his keeping the secret from her.

"Weeks? Why would he wait…" Realization crosses her face and she sighs, shaking her head fondly. "That sweet, stupid, caring man."

She grabs an apple from the large bowl on the counter, looking at Hodgins with a gleam in her eye. "Alright, I'm going to get dressed. Be ready to leave in twenty minutes."

* * *

><p>"Trust me Bones, it's cute," Booth says with a warm smile as they exit the car and walk to the back.<p>

"I don't want to be cute," Brennan almost whines, reaching into the car for two bags inside.

"Too late," he chuckles under his breath, also grabbing two bags. "Here, Bones, trade me bags, these are lighter."

"I can handle it," she walks towards the house, talking to him over her shoulder. "I am on the brink of starting my career, I need people to see me as a professional. Not cute."

"Okay, fine. Your hair cut is gorgeous and very attractive," Booth says, earning a glare as she climbs up the porch steps though he thinks he spots a smile around her lips that he reciprocates.

"Don't charm smile me," she scoffs though he is certain now that she's being playful.

"This isn't a charm smile," he assures her. "Trust me, I save those up."

With a roll of her eyes, Brennan flicks her head to clear her eyesight of the bangs she regrets letting Angela talk her into. She lifts a knee to help balance one of the large brown grocery bags in her arms as her hand strains out to open the door of the house. Just as her fingers touch the cool metal the door opens and a bag is instantly taken from her.

"Hi, sweetheart, Shrimp" Hank greets her with a kiss to the cheek, stepping aside to let her in and closing the door.

"Hi, Pops," she smiles at him as she walks past.

"Pops, how's it going?" Booth smiles, following his girlfriend.

He looks down at the bag and sighs with a shake of his head, following them to the kitchen. Since the passing of his dear Lizzie the group of friends have made a habit of visiting him at least once a week each, the women always bringing food with them. The prideful male ego that stays with every man no matter his age gets a little exasperated and stifled at their hovering. But his loving and all too frequently lonely heart relishes the interaction, especially with Brennan and his grandson. He knows they both worry about him alone in the large house but he just cant bring himself to leave the memories yet. He pulls himself out of his musings to focus on what Brennan is currently saying about the food she brought for him.

"Wait a minute. You didn't spend five dollars on a tomato just cause the sign said 'organic'!" He interrupts her indignantly, eyebrows raised high.

"I try to tell her but she doesn't listen," Booth shakes his head, placing said tomatoes in the fridge.

"Organic food is more than worth the extra price," she argues, continuing putting the food away. All eyes go down to Booth's cell as it rings.

"Booth," he answers, grimacing slightly after a moment.

"Who is it?" Brennan asks softly.

"Lawyer," he mouths before he starts to walk out of the room. "Yes, that's correct…"

"So, how's school, Temperance?" Hank asks, taking a bag of marshmallows from one of the bags.

"Excellent. I'm-" Brennan turns to place a loaf of bread on the counter when a trio of pill bottles catches her eyes. "Pops, when did you get these?"

"Oh, he damn doctor prescribed those on Tuesday," Hank dismisses, popping a marshmallow into his moth.

"They still look full," she examines them with a worried look. "These are important, Hank. You should take them."

"I don't think so," Hank shakes his head. Sensing her working up to a lecture he holds up a resigned hand. "I know, I know. I'll take them. You know, you two don't have to keep coming around, bringing food. I can still shop for myself."

"We like coming over," Brennan says honestly, handing him a cup of water and his pills.

"I like seeing you. I just don't want you to feel like you have to."

"Well according to our society's current customs, we are expected to," she cant stop herself from informing him, making the old man chuckle as she sits on the stool next to him. "But it's not a burden, especially for Booth."

"Especially for Booth, what?" the man in question says, walking back in to wrap his arms around Brennan.

"Was that the lawyer from the murderer you arrested?" Brennan asks in great interest, tilting her head back to look at him. "Was he granted an appeal?"

"Yeah, I got to talk to the prosecutor next week," he tells her in a distracted tone, reaching out for his own marshmallow. "Caroline something, just got here from Louisiana. So, what's for lunch?"

"We just had breakfast," Brennan scoffs in disbelief.

"What? I'm hungry."

"You're always hungry."

"Well, maybe you should feed me more," he smiles at her, reaching for another marshmallow.

Lips pursed, she quickly snags the bag away. "These are not food and last I checked you could feed yourself."

The front door opening followed by Angela's cheerful voice interrupts the bickering couple. "Knock, knock. Where are you guys?"

"Kitchen," Booth calls out, using the distraction to grab the bag from Brennan and laughingly stuffs two of the treats into his mouth.

"Booth! You're such a child."

"Hello all," Angela greets them with a wide smile, Hodgins and Zack behind her.

"How did you know they would be here?" Zack asks, standing in the entryway, his shaggy hr covering his confused eyebrows, his head tilted as he stares at Angela, something he has been doing a lot recently.

"Bren told me yesterday," Angela tells him, placing her hands on her hips and raising her eyebrows at his stare, the others also looking strangely at the younger man. "What, Zack?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why are you staring at my wife?" Hodgins says, crossing his arms.

"Because she's pregnant. Right?" he says, looking at Brennan for confirmation.

"Zack! Damn it, nobody knew yet," Hodgins says angrily. He turns to booth and Brennan just in time to see the glance they exchange his own eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Wait a minute…"

"Hey, a baby!" Booth recovers first, quickly plastering a large smile on his face. "Congratulations!"

"Yes, wonderful!" Brennan takes up, her overly peppy tone giving her away. "A baby! Yay!"

You knew," Hodgins says, turning to his guilty looking wife. "You told them without me?"

"No, hey we guessed," Booth says, drawing attention from Angela and getting a grateful smile in return. "It was the glow and you know, whatever the hell Zack saw. The point is we're all very happy for you both."

"Yes, that part is true," Brennan says firmly, smiling a true smile.

"I cant believe you all knew already," Hodgins outs a little.

"I didn't," Hank puts in, standing to hug Angela, "congratulations."

"Thanks, Hank."

"Hey, to the Hodgins family," Booth says loudly, holding his arms wide.

"To the Montenegro-Hodgins family," Brennan corrects him.

"And the baby," Zack says, a smile on his face.

"To our family," Hodgins says lovingly, wrapping his arm around Angela and kissing her cheek.

"Well and occasion like this calls for a meal," Hank declares, rubbing his hands together as he moves to the fridge.

"I'll help," Brennan volunteers.

Zack and Hodgins move to take the now empty seats, talking to each other about things the others don't want to know about. Booth takes a step to help his girlfriend and grandfather but Angela tugs on his arm, gesturing with her head for him to follow her. They step just outside the kitchen, far enough for their soft voices to not carry into the others.

Angela looks up at the slightly concerned FBI agent, smiling fondly. "You're a sweet guy, Booth and a wonderful friend."

"Thanks," he smiles tentatively, a little confused. "Ange, what-"

"I love that you're considerate of my feeling but I don't want you to worry, okay?" she continues, smiling widely. "Nothing is going to steal my happiness, so you do _whatever _you had planned."

Booth narrows his eyes at her, cursing under his breath when she nods knowingly. "I'm gonna kill Hodgins."

Leave him alone, did you really think he would be able to keep something like that from _me_?" She grabs his arm, hopping slightly in excitement. "How are you going to propose? How long have you been planning? Can I see he ring?" please?"

"Angela, shh!" Booth grabs her by the shoulders, looking into the kitchen to make sure no one has heard. "Are there no secrets in this group?"

"Nope," she miles saucily, laughing at his wide eyes. "So, come on, tell me! Where's the ring? Is it gorgeous?"

Booth looks at her for a moment and then slowly smirks. "No I don't think I'll tell you. Cause you know, it'll probably ruin the experience for Bones."

"What?" Angela outs, following him back into the kitchen. "Wait, no, come on."

"Sorry, Ange," he chuckles.

**Okay, like always, not sure if I like it. I'm hoping that the next chapter will be better mostly cause I'm planning on not including a lot of the show's dialogue (I'm hoping that will inspire my muse a little better). Tell me what you think. Thanks!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Very very short, but it's smut! Lol, it's a scene that popped into my head and I wasn't sure it will fit well with the next chapter so I thought I'd post it on its own. Also, I just want to thank everyone who reviews. It means so much and really makes me so happy every time I get one, even if it's a smiley face (or two! Lol). So to all of you reviews (the regulars and the ones who pop up every once in a while) THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH!**

**Chapter 5**

"Wait a minute, you knew before Hodgins did?" Booth says, looking at his girlfriend's back in surprise as they enter their apartment. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"It was a secret, Angela told me not to," Brennan says matter of factly, taking off her jacket and hanging it up, Booth doing the same. "But since her pregnancy is no longer a secret I can tell you. Are you angry?"

"No, of course not. Just don't tell Hodgins, okay?" With a loud groan he plops down on the couch, leaning his head back with eyes closed. "Oh man, Pops can really cook when he wants to. I'm stuffed."

Brennan tilts her head and observes her boyfriend, her eyes tracking the way his large hand rubs over his muscled stomach. "So, you've eaten enough to satisfy your hunger for a few hours?"

"Definitely," he grunts, his closed eyes preventing him from seeing her predatory look as she advances. "Maybe, uh, maybe we could have something light for dinner?"

"Or we could perform a vigorous activity to burn the calories," she suggests, straddling him.

Booth's eyes snap open as her weight settles on top of him, his hands automatically cupping her hips. Chuckling huskily at his startled expression, she softly connects their mouths, gently sucking his bottom lip while her hands glide over his shoulders to caress his neck. She languidly deepens the kiss, teasing him with her tongue and hip movements until his every muscle is tense and he groans. His hands move up from her hips to the skin beneath her shirt, the rough pads sending goosebumps across her soft skin.

Panting softly she pulls away just a fraction, her spine tingling at the lust filled look he is giving her. "Do you think that is a satisfying alternative?"

"Yeah, baby, it's fucking brilliant," he says in a gruff voice, attacking her neck with sucking kisses.

He finds a sensitive spot that urges a moan from her and sets his blood on fire. Kissing his way back over to her mouth, his hands grab at the material of her shirt and slowly lift it up. She tosses the shirt aside, leaning back slightly to give his eyes and hands access to her flat stomach and blue lace-covered breasts. His gaze drinks up her beauty, his thumb tracing circles around her belly button while one hand smoothes down a cup of her strapless bra.

"You're so gorgeous," he murmurs reverently, his thumb running over her nipple and his mouth sucks the skin above her heart. "So gorgeous, Bones."

"Booth," Brennan cries out as his warm mouth suckles her, her bra removed by his nimble fingers.

Her hands grip his hair as he moves to her other breast, her hips still moving in a rapid movement over his hardness. She closes her eyes and breathes in his scent, losing herself in the pleasure he always brings to her. Its in moments like this, the two of them lost in the sensations only the other can give, that she feels her love almost bursting out of her rapidly beating heart. She opens her mouth to speak her love for him but hand sneaks up her skirt to run across the thin material of her panties, stealing her breath.

"So wet," he whispers approvingly.

"Bed," Brennan gasps, pulling him up with her and leading him by the hand towards the bedroom.

He releases her hand in the hallway and she turns around with protest on her lips that quickly dies away when Booth removes his shirt. In front of her eyes is Booth's naked chest, his muscles defined by tension. With a feminine growl she pulls him forward by his belt buckle, their mouths crashing together.

"Now," Brennan pants, dragging his hand under her skirt and then attacking his belt and zipper. "Right now."

He rips her panties off and raises her skirt to her waist then lifts her up. Her legs wrap around him, her nails digging into his back as he all but slams her into the wall. He thrusts into her, their mutual groans of approval reverberating in the other's mouth. Shifting his stance to find his balance and gripping her firmly, he begins a quick pace.

"Oh god I love you," Brennan grunts out at every thrust into her body, biting and sucking at his neck.

"I love you," Booth grits out, moving faster. "Oh fuck, yeah. I love you!"

With simultaneous screams of ecstasy the finish, Brennan clamping tightly around him in every way she can. Booth uses the wall the support them both, the sound of blood pounding in his ears. After what seems like the shortest eternity he opens his eyes, his forehead resting against hers and chuckles breathlessly.

"We didn't make the bed," she smiles, her fingers trailing through his damp hair. "It's becoming a habit."

"Its okay," he assures her, shifting her weight to finish the trip to the bedroom. "We'll make it for round two."

**So now that I've put the M rating to use, what did you think? Good or never write smut again?**


	6. Chapter 6

**I hope everyone had a good New Years and hopefully 2012 will be a good year. Just a warning, this story will probably be sugary sweet, cliché fluff. So be prepared lol. Thanks to harper83 and musicnlyrics for the help and also to my little brother though I refuse to indulge his bloodlust and kill characters off (sorry Mike lol).**

**Sorry, no pointless smut in this one lol. **

**Chapter 6**

"Booth!" Brennan calls, slamming the door in frustration as she reenters the apartment.

Booth walks down the hallway from the bedroom, his undone tie hanging from his neck. "Hey, I thought you left already?"

"My car has a flat tire and we never replaced the spare," she explains in a harried voice, gesturing widely with her arms. "I have an exam in my first class that I can't be late for!"

"Baby, relax," Booth soothes, grabbing her hips and giving her a peck of a kiss. "I'll drive you to school, okay?"

He walks over to the couch to grab his suit jacket as she huffs impatiently behind him. "We have to leave now, Booth"

"We are, we're leaving," he follows her out, shrugging into his jacket and grabbing his keys. "Come on."

After gathering Brennan's bag from her stranded car and with Booth's surprisingly plain tie secured around his neck, the couple drives off in the SUV. After a small squabble over the radio station the pair settle into a comfortable silence. Booth looks over at Brennan, her head bent over a notebook as she crams in some last minute studying. Her slightly curled bangs settle just above her eyes in a look that he finds a strange mixture of cute and sexy. His soft smile turns nervous, as he becomes painfully aware of the ring box in his pocket. Her sky colored eyes lift and he quickly turns back to the road, hoping she doesn't notice his hands quickly convulse on the steering wheel.

"So, I'll uh, pick you up for lunch?" he says to distract her.

"I have a lunch meeting with Michael," Brennan's voice has a tinge of regret. "He said it was something important."

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"Booth," Brennan says warningly, catching on to his sarcastic tone.

"Just promise me you'll eat something, alright?"

"I'm not going to starve if I miss a meal."

Booth opens his mouth to retort but is cut off by his cell. He digs it out of his pocket, lightly slapping Brennan's hand away as she tries to take the wheel after the SUV wavers slightly. "Booth."

"That's illegal you know," Brennan points out, earning an eye roll from her boyfriend.

"Hey, Pops," Booth speaks into the cell, turning onto the college campus.

"_Hey. What are you doin Shrimp?"_

"Dropping Bones off at school."

Oh, let me talk to him," Brennan reaches out her hand for the cell, tapping his shoulder when he twists away. "Booth let talk to him."

"_What's wrong with her car?"_

"Bones! Look we're here," Booth says with slight irritation, puling into a loading zone and then speaking to his grandfather. "She had a flat tire."

Brennan unbuckles herself and gathers her bags. "Tell him I got him a pill box that has a compartment for each day's pills. That way he won't forget."

"_Why didn't you just change the tire? I taught you how."_

"Pill box for his medication?" Booth asks in surprise and concern, not hearing Hank speaking.

"Yes. I'll take it to him when the tire on my car is fixed. Bye." With a smile Brennan steps out of the SUV.

"_A pill organizer?"_ Hank's voice draws Booth's attention, a headshake clear in his gruff voice. _"There's only three of them. I won't forget. Tell that girl she worries too much."_

"She left. Pops, what's going on?" the twenty-eight year old sits in the SUV, his focus fully on his conversation with Hank. "Why are you taking pills?"

"_Nothing serious Seeley. I promise_," Hank says solemnly, hearing the tone of fear in his grandson's voice. "_It precautionary stuff, you know? To help me make sure I'm around to see my grandkid's wedding. You plan on that happening before I go senile?"_

"Pops," Booth sighs, driving the SUV again.

" _Are you gay?"_

"No! What?" Booth sputters, nearly hitting a green VW Beetle as he jerks the wheel. "No, I'm not GAY, Pops."

"_Did you turn blind or something? She's not pretty enough for you?"_

"Bones is beautiful," He says adamantly though he knows Hank is teasing. "I can handle my love life, Pops."

"_I don't thinks so," _Hank chuckles. _"I know you love that girl, anyone can see it. She's a keeper, but it's been five years Shrimp."_

"Look, Pops. I uh, I got it under control alright?"

"_Oh."_ As Hank laughs happily Booth feels his stomach roll with nerves. _"Well, congratulations."_

"Pops, you know Bones," the FBI agent cautions, his palms clenching as a light gleam of sweat builds inside them. "She's independent and stubborn."

"_She knows her mind,"_ he replies in approval._ "It's one of the great things about her."_

"Yeah. But it means there's a chance that she'll…that she'll say no." Just the possibility of that and of everyone knowing has his stomach clenching.

Hank just chuckles. _"Relax, Seeley. That one isn't going anywhere. You should trust me, I told you that Jennifer girl was a waste of time, didn't I?"_

Booth rolls his eyes at the old memories. "I was in high school, Pops, cut me a break."

* * *

><p>The rustle of paper fills the small room, followed by the creak of a chair as the occupant leans back. His dark eyes blue eyes scan quickly over the paper before he picks up a red pen and places a large 'D' on the top, a smug smile on his face as he does. He raises his head at the knock on his office door, tossing the pen and paper onto the desk in front of him.<p>

"Come in," he calls, smiling widely when the door opens.

"Hello Michael," Brennan returns his smile, closing the door behind her. "I'm sorry I'm late but Professor Daniels kept me behind."

"No need to worry Tempe," he smiles, gesturing at the chair across from him and leaning back in his own with a slightly inclined head. "You cut your hair."

"Yeah, my friend talked me into it," Brennan says a little sheepishly, placing her large bag on the floor next to her.

"I like it. Very attractive," Stires flirts.

"Thank you," she responds, pleased even as she doesn't notice the flirtation for what it is. The phone on the desk rings and Stires answers it, confusing her with a wink.

"Professor Stires. I'm actually in a meeting right now. Okay, okay, five minutes," Michael looks up at the clock on the wall, irritation in his eyes as he hangs up the phone. "Well, I guess I'm going to have to rush to the point. Tempe, you're my best student."

"Yes," she nods; self pride having her sitting straighter in her chair.

"Well, I've been speaking with your other professors," Stires says seriously, leaning on his desk towards her. "And the truth is not only are you the top student currently enrolled but you're the most talented this institution has seen in years."

"Oh." Brennan links in surprise, a sensation of accomplishment building from her chest and threatening to overwhelm her with tears.

"Yeah, everyone in the business is very impressed," Stires continues, his eyes not showing his jealousy. He has sent out feelers about joining the illustrious Jeffersonian and has been informed that the top contender is the student currently sitting in front of him.

He shakes off the thoughts and pulls open a drawer, reaching to retrieve a large folder. Brennan takes it from him, her head tilting in curiosity. She takes the top page and as she reads her eyes become wider and wider.

"Guatemala?" she questions, looking up to his slightly smirking face. "This a professional dig."

"Yes, it is," he says smugly, reading the eagerness she is trying to keep in check. "Though I and my colleagues will be looking over your work occasionally, for the most part you will not be considered a student. Your responsibilities will be much greater than the small trips you've taken here in the states."

"Four to six months duration?" Brennan looks down at the itinerary in front of her, thoughts of Booth running through her mind. "I would have to leave in two weeks."

"Yes and I'm afraid we need an answer by next Monday," Stires says, already mentally planning to be her comforter in the strange land. "Don't worry about your degree. In fact this will actually help."

Brennan bites her lip, her cheering academic brain battling with the pain in her heart at possibly being separated from Booth for so long. "I'm afraid I can't give an answer right now."

"Oh, ok. Here, call me if you have questions, we'll get something to eat and talk," Stires writes quickly on a piece of paper before handing it over, sighing with a touch of regret. "I really think you should take this opportunity Tempe. For the sake of your career."

* * *

><p>Replaying his plans for the next night and worrying to himself over all the possible ways it can go wrong, Booth walks into the conference room where he is supposed to meet the prosecutor for the Epps appeal. He stops inside the doorway, releasing an irritated huff at finding the room empty but for a stack of files at one end. He places his hands on his hip and starts to pace his already frazzled nerves setting warning sparks on his anger. The opening and closing of the door has him spinning around, a blaze in his eyes that would send most people to cower. But apparently not Caroline Julian.<p>

"Bout time you showed up," says the prosecutor, one hand going to her hip as the other holds a mug of coffee, her eyes moving up and down in appraisal. "You're cute. Good. That'll help win over a jury. Just don't be late again. Last thing we need s for the judge to think the FBI is full of scatterbrains."

She sips her coffee as she walks over to the chair in front of the files. She glances up to see Booth just looking at her and gestures to the table impatiently. "Come on. I haven't got all day. Got a meeting with the other damn lawyer in two hours."

"You're Caroline Julian?" Booth finally speaks, eyebrows raised.

"That's right cher. And unless you're in the wrong room, you better be Seeley Booth." She waits for him to sit after his nod and then she opens one of the files with a snap. "Alright, lets get started."

Twenty minutes of shifting and tapping fingers Caroline reaches the edge of her tether. She tilt her head staring with pursed lips at the young and apparently preoccupied agent until he seems to realize she has stopped speaking and refocuses.

"I was told you were one of the top agents around here," she says in a tiff. "Apparently I was lied to."

"Hey I am a great agent," Booth points at her, his own patience at an end allowing him to ignore the slight intimidation he feels from the short woman.

"Well, I sure as hell haven't seen it today," Caroline snaps back. "I don't know what is going on in your personal life-"

"No you don't. Okay, I'm sorry I can't remember how long it took me to walk from a frond door to the car two years ago." Booth raises to pace in aggravation, not even thinking about what he's saying or to who now he's on a roll. "Epps killed that girl, okay? The facts PROVE that. The jury will see it and all this? Waste of time. Meanwhile I have to prepare myself for my girlfriend to reject my proposal tomorrow."

Caroline watches him pace for a few seconds then sets her pen down with an eye roll. "How long you been dating this girl?"

"Five years."

"She ever give any indication her feelings aren't on the same level as yours?"

"No. No Bones is amazing," Booth slows his pacing, voice becoming calmer. "Best I could ever ask for."

"She lets you call her 'Bones'? Must be love," Caroline says with raised eyebrows. Booth chuckles softly, stopping to lean against the wall. "Seeing as you're a man, she stuck around through a dumbass mistake she should have left you for within those five years.

Mm-hmm," she shifts when he looks down in remembrance of guilt. "She's obviously sticking with you. Rumor is you're not a quitter so it seems to me that in the long run you don't have anything to worry about cher."

"Right." Booth nods to himself, pushing off the wall and walking back to the table. "You're right."

"I know," Caroline says indignantly. "Can we get back to work now?"

"Yeah. Yeah." Booth sits, looking embarrassed and apologetic. "Ms. Julian that was…extremely unprofessional and inappropriate. I apologize."

"Just make sure you don't screw up my case," she says threateningly. Picking up her pen she speaks under her breath. "Healthy good looking man afraid to propose. No wonder they brought me up here, whip him into shape."

**So I know its possible OOC or that some things are highly unlikely but, you know, just go with it lol. Thanks for reading and thanks in advance for reviews and alerts!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

After two hours of going over every detail of the investigation and arrest of Howard Epps, Booth finally sits back at his desk. He shakes his head with a small smirk, deciding that he really likes Caroline Julian and her no bullshit attitude. And he's pretty sure the little hint of a smile she had on her face when she walked away means she likes him too. Thank God, he thinks, knowing without a doubt that the prosecutor is one of the last people one would want going against them.

"Hey, Booth," a fellow agent approaches him, holding a paper in his hands that he promptly hands to Booth. "Reilly needs this guy picked up."

"Right. Got it," Booth stands, glancing quickly at the information before heading out.

He usually hates assignments like this, being the errand boy instead of the lead but because it's for Sam Reilly it doesn't bother him so much. He approaches the SUV and checks his watch, grimacing as he remembers about picking up Brennan. He pulls out his cell, dialing as he climbs into the vehicle. Turning the key one handed, Booth takes a deep breath to prepare to dodge questions.

"Hello," Angela answers her cell brightly, in the process of packing up her art supplies and ignoring the noise of her fellow students the same.

Booth puts the cell on speaker and places it down, raising his voice slightly to be heard. "Hey, Ange. I need a favor."

"Sure, G-man," she replies easily, closing the lid to her paint kit and pulling her bag onto her shoulder. "Whatcha need?"

"Can you give Bones a ride home? She gets out of class in ten minutes and I've got to bring this a guy in for questioning."

"Yeah, sure. What's wrong with her car?"

"She's got a flat. I'll take care of it when I get home. Tell her to _wait _for me to take care of it," he adds, making the young artist laugh.

"Okay. So, when I see her, is there going to be something sparkly on her finger?" Angela asks, smiling widely as she walks out of her class. "Or this a ploy to surprise her with when she gets home? Oh! Can I be there?"

"Well, thanks Ange," Booth says over her but she just ignores him.

"Are you going to be kneeling when she opens the door? You know, you still haven't told me about the ring. It's got to be something classy but unique at the same time. Brens not really a big shimmering diamond girl."

"You don't say," Booth snaps slightly, his previously settled nerves starting to bubble.

"Oh right, you know that or you wouldn't be asking," Angela chuckles, sitting down in front of a large fountain to wait. "Are you going to do the whole dress up, fancy dinner thing? Or something different? Oh, what if you slipped it on her finger while she's asleep and then be all romantic and cater to her the next day? That sounds sweet."

Booth frowns, clearing his throat. "Angela."

"Oh, you know what's a cute way? A scavenger hunt by text where the end is you with the ring? Or you could make her a really nice dinner with music and candles and then hand her a music box with the ring sitting in the middle," she continues, really getting into it now. "I know, you could go dancing, like at a jazz club and ask her in a whisper just as a really romantic song ends."

"Angela, stop!" Booth bursts out, running a hand over his face as he drives. "Stop-just stop saying things I should have thought of. This is hard enough, okay?"

"I'm sorry, but I'm just so excited," she bounces on the bench. "I want to help, Hodgins helped with the ring. Isn't there anything I can do?"

Booth sighs deeply, shaking his head. "Yeah. Yeah, there is. Don't ask her to do anything tomorrow afternoon."

"Ok. Oh. Oh! Tomorrow?" Booth flinches as a short excited squeal sounds over the phone, glad that it isn't close to his ear. "Oh my god. Oh I'm going to cry!"

"Angela, do not tell her," Booth demands in a low, serious voice. "You have to act like you don't know anything, alright?"

"Absolutely, don't worry about it Studly," she assures him, her tone softening. "Don't be nervous ok? Brennan loves you. You two are meant to be together."

"Yeah." Booth clears his throat, getting his emotions under control so he can do his job. "Well, thanks Angela. Tell Bones not to worry about dinner, I'll bring home some Wong Foo's. Bye."

"Bye Booth."

* * *

><p>"Okay everyone, don't forget we have a test on Thursday," Stires announces to the class, his eyes connecting with Brennan's. "It'll be the last test I give before I leave and Dr. Thorton takes over for the rest of the semester. Have a nice day."<p>

Brennan packs her bag and walks straight out, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts. She strides towards the parking lot, not paying attention to those around her. Without slowing she reaches one hand in her bag to pull out her phone, her finger about to speed dial Booth when the sound of her name draws her attention.

"Brennan," Angela jogs slightly to catch up with her, her box of paints and brushes dangling from one hand. "Damn, you walk fast. Hi sweetie."

"Hi," Brennan chuckles, happily surprise to run into her friend, an occurrence that doesn't happen often enough.

"Booth called me, asked if I could give you a ride home," the artist explains, reaching out to finger Brennan's jacket in appreciation. "This is cute."

"Thank you. Where's Booth?" Brennan frowns, matching Angela's step as she begins walking.

"Something with work. Sorry I forgot."

"Oh."

Angela looks over at her best friend, her brown eyes filling with concern at the conflict she can see rolling through Brennan. With a soft touch to her elbow, Angela brings them both to a stop, her voice soft as she speaks. "Hey. I can see something's wrong. Lets skip the part where I coax it out and just tell me Bren, please."

"Michael invited me on a professional dig in Guatemala," Brennan tells her, pride slipping into her voice.

"Bren, that's amazing," Angela smiles.

"For six months," Brennan continues, the smile dropping off Angela's face with an understanding sigh. "I leave in two weeks."

"Two weeks? That's-" Angela straightens, grabbing Brennan's arms. "Wait, did you accept?"

"Of course not," Brennan frowns. "I've been dating Booth for five years. I wouldn't make a decision like that without talking to him."

"Right, I'm sorry. Of course you wouldn't," Angela apologizes, rubbing Brennan arms before turning to walk again.

"I would like to accept though I know I will miss Booth very much," Brennan admits. "I was hoping to talk to him about it on the way home."

"No. No you-you cant," Angela says in a slight panic, thinking about Booth's proposal. "You can't tell him yet."

"Why?" Brennan stops in confusion.

"Because…" Angela frantically tries to think of an excuse so she wont break her promise to Booth. "Because you haven't thought about it enough. I mean with those other digs you've taken you thought about them for like a week."

"I have to give my answer by Monday," she replies. "Booth needs time to process as well. Even more than I do because of how emotional he can get."

"A day. Think about it for a day," Angela all but pleads. "Twenty-four hours before you bring it up to Booth. Please?"

"Why? Angela I don't understand," Brennan sighs, starting to get annoyed with all the uncertainty inside her.

"No matter how much it'll hurt him, he's going to tell you to go. You and Booth on opposite ends of the world? I don't care about how advance communication is; you're going to miss each other. And I don't think either of you should go through that until you're absolutely sure of how you feel about it," Angela tries to answers honestly as she possibly can, sure that by the next evening Brennan's perspective would be different. "Please, sweetie. One day."

"Okay," Brennan agrees reluctantly, still confused.

* * *

><p>Soft early dawn light spills into the room, the quiet broken only by Booth's soft manly snoring. Brennan lies on her side facing the handsome man, her eyes tracing every line of his face. Her brow crinkles and she releases a troubled breath as her mind again visits the dilemma that has kept her awake for most of the night.<p>

Six months in Guatemala. It is an amazing opportunity both for her education and her career. It is a huge compliment on her skills to be invited without having a doctorate, no matter that she is obviously a last minute replacement. Her lips curve in pleasure at the acknowledgement and excitement tingles in her fingers. She has read the list of accompanying anthropologists and while they are by no means the best they're still names she is familiar with.

But as she again looks over her sleeping boyfriend's face her smile fades away. She's in a relationship, a deeply committed relationship she doesn't want to risk. She recalls Angela's certainty that Booth would encourage her to go, no matter how much it would bother him and knows it to be true of his character. He did it the year before for the six-week dig in Arizona. A person's gotta live wide, he had told her. She went and enjoyed herself, including the two weekends he flew over to spend with her. This is different though and she knows it.

With a soft breath, Brennan shifts and slowly climbs out of the bed. She reaches out for the nightstand to keep her balance as a wave of dizziness overcomes her just as it did that morning. With an annoyed huff she closes her eyes until it passes. Once it does she grabs her robe and walks out, shaking her head and telling herself to increase her water intake.

She runs her hand through her tangled hair stopping to lean against the entryway into he living room. The apartment is a mess, Booth's jacket hanging off the back of a chair and food containers on the coffee table. She smiles in remembrance of how they again became absorbed in each other, forgetting to tidy up before moving to the bedroom. She looks at the time and moves forward to pick up Booth's jacket. She'll clean the apartment and then start her day early with a run before heading to school. Hopefully the tasks will help her think.

**Honestly, I'm not sure what her decision is going to be. It changes from moment to moment. I guess we'll all be surprised lol. Please review :-)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

_The small cardboard cartons make a soft thump as they land in the trashcan, the aroma of Thai still lingering in the apartment. Hearing the bathroom door close he walks through his dark apartment, stopping only when he reaches his bedroom. He leans against the doorjamb watching his lover, whose body he has just barely discovered fixes the covers of the bed. A pair of his pajamas that hang loosely on her hide all those soft curves he can still feel sliding under his hands. _

_Slowly she turns her head, her wavy hair newly brushed and flowing around her shoulders. Those mesmerizing blue-gray eyes connect with his and her lips lift in a small, shy smile. A tinge of rose blossoms on her cheeks though she doesn't turn away._

"_What?" she asks, her voice revealing how unknown the situation is to her. "Why are you staring at me?"_

"_Because. You even look pretty when you go to sleep," he says softly, only slightly teasing. He pushes away to cross to her, capturing her lips with his own. "I love you."_

_Her eyes staying shut as she leans heavily into him, small humming noise sounds from her throat. "Prove it."_

_As he falls with her onto the bed everything shifts. His bed, her bed, their bed, then, now, tomorrow. Her at eighteen, sitting at the table inside the library; her twenty first birthday as she insist he teach how to do a body shot; her in a white dress with flowers in her hands; her stomach extending with their unborn child to right back to the first time he ever laid his lips onto hers. _

With pleasant and semi-erotic memories of Brennan replaying in his dreams Booth rolls over, reaching out to cuddle with his girlfriend. Touching nothing but empty bed he frowns, slowly climbing into wakefulness. When reaching out further and sliding his arm around still doesn't produce Brennan's warm body he finally opens his eyes. He raises onto an elbow, peering around the dim room, listening for any noise around the apartment. Worry starts to creep in as he looks at the time so he swings his legs over the edge of the bed, pulling on pants from the floor and then walking out into the hallway.

"Bones?" he calls out, relaxing back into semi-sleepiness spotting her standing in the middle of the living room. Seeing his jacket in her arms, the jacket that contains the engagement ring, he stops in his tracks, panic rising up to completely clear sleep away. He swallows thickly, his heart raging in his chest. "What are you doing?"

Brennan frowns at his tone, bending to pick up the tie that for some strange reason is resting five feet from the couch. "Cleaning."

"It's early, baby. I'll clean it in the morning, I promise," Booth tries to cajole, hurrying forward as casually as he can to take the clothing from her arms, smiling in relief when she doesn't resist. "Come back to bed."

"No, I cant sleep," she protests with a resigned and frustrated sigh.

"Why?" Booth abandons the jacket onto the chair once again, his concern for her taking control. He pulls her away from the dirty coffee table, frowning at the slight dark circles under her eyes. "What's wrong?

"I…I promised Angela I wouldn't bring it up until tonight, though I don't see why."

"Tell me now," he urges, bringing her down to the couch with him. He smiles, hoping to make things easier for her. "Hey, I promise I won't tell Angela."

"Michael invited me on a professional dig in Guatemala," Brennan turns to look into his eyes, willing him to understand. "I leave-if I choose to go, I leave in little over a week."

"Oh," Booth says quietly, leaning forward on his knees. He tries to ignore the urge to clench his fists at her professor's name, knowing he really has no reason to be jealous. "Um, how long? Is the dig, how long will you be gone?"

"Possibly six months." Booth snaps his head to her incredulously and she leans forward, desperately needing him to understand. "It's a professional dig, Booth. I will be working side by side not only with Professor Stires but other accredited anthropologists and archeologists."

"Six months? Bones." With a shake of his head to attempt to clear his frazzled mind, Booth stands his hands on his hips as he paces a few steps away. "You're going to Guatemala for six months with only two weeks notice? That-that doesn't sound right."

"I'm a last minute replacement. Booth, I told him I needed to think about it," Brennan tries to placate her obviously agitated love, standing also. "I didn't say yes."

"Yet," speaking softly, Booth stops and turns to look at her, nodding his head. "You've already decided to say yes, right?"

"Booth, I…it's my career!" Brennan bursts out, fear and indignation at his possible anger brining tears to her voice, much to her annoyance. "This can help set me up to be the best in my field! You know how long I've wanted this? Years, Booth!"

"Yeah, I know, I was there for last five!" Booth says loudly, his own temper triggered by hers and fueled by worry as his memories of Guatemala bombard upon him. "Come on Bones, six months? What-what about that job at the Jeffersonian? I thought that was your dream, huh?"

Brennan takes a calming breath, crossing her arms and wishing she were wearing something more than just a short gray robe. "The renovations on the lab wont be done for another year and they won't be accepting applications for eight months. Booth-"

"You said it was a professional dig, you don't have your degree," Booth says in a lower voice though it's just as intense with emotions.

"I'll still earn it while I'm there. This isn't going to be the last time that I'll be asked to other countries for digs and consultations. I thought you knew that?"

"I do. I do. The timing just…sucks," Booth says the last under his breath, glancing at his jacket.

"Please, don't ask me to reject this opportunity," she says quietly, moving close to him.

Booth looks into the blue-gray eyes he adores so much, the plead for understanding striking him to the core. With a soft half smile he pulls into his arms, burying his face in her hair for a moment.

"I'm not going to, okay? I'm sorry." Booth kisses her cheek, fighting past the painful clench in his stomach just thinking about the separation. "Its five in the morning, I just got caught a little off guard. Hey, I'm proud of you."

"Its six months at the longest, it could be as little as three," Brennan says, pulling back just enough to look at him. "There will be internet opportunities, so we will be able to communicate."

"Okay. We can do this." Booth leans his forehead against hers, connecting his gaze with hers. "I love you, Bones. I'm going to miss you."

"I know. I am too," Brennan says softly, closing the small space between their lips.

Drowning in her taste has his dream coming back in full force, and his body tenses in reaction. As the kiss goes deeper Booth pulls her tighter against him, making his intentions completely obvious. Brennan gives in for a moment, running her hand down the smooth skin of his muscular back, her nails digging just a little at the base of his spine. With a groan Booth moves his kisses to her neck, pulling her with him as he takes a step backwards.

"Booth, wait," Brennan breaks away, smiling at the disappointed sound he releases. "The apartment needs to be cleaned first. Then we have school and work."

"Bones, come on," Booth whines, his eyes going wide and tone changing when she picks up the jacket. "Bones-"

Booth internally curses as, for whatever reason, the ring box dislodges from the pocket and falls out with a clatter. He watches silently as she bends down to pick it up, running her thumb over the lid. Booth swallows thickly, his heart raging, as she sinks down on the couch still staring at the box cradled in her hands. He is broken from his frozen state when she starts to open the box.

"No, no, no, don't," he rushes out, taking the box from her hands.

"Why not?" Brennan asks bewildered, Booth not noticing her quickened breathing.

"Because you're not supposed to see it until later at the library!"

"The library?" Brennan watches him pace, still a little stunned. Its been five years since they have really talked about marriage now she chides herself for having thought he had changed his mind or was simply content with their living arrangements; she should have known better.

"I was going to be waiting there when you went for that tutoring thing you still do every week. Got permission from that strange librarian and everything," Booth continues, too agitated to see the slow smile crossing her face as her mind starts to catch up. "Just me, some flowers, a bottle of that wine you love and those little, you know, French things you said you always wanted to have."

"A quiche," she says softly.

"All that, waiting right at our table where we first met."

"Because you knew." Something in her voice finally catches his full attention and he stops to look at her, his heart soaring at the smile on her face.

"Yeah, I knew." Running his thumb over the box just as she did, he starts to walk over, his voice smooth as velvet. "We fell in love at that table."

Brennan shakes her head. "No I…I think I started to fall in love with you during that first Christmas."

"Really?" Booth tilts his head, sitting next to her on the couch.

Brennan nods, smiling as she remembers. "You stood under my window and quoted Cyrano de Bergerac. I was very impressed."

"I was completely yours by then. Have been ever since." He looks over at her, the love of his life, and with a deep breath takes her hand in his. "Falling in love with you wasn't a choice but I couldn't be happier that I did. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me.

"You know, I had this whole speech planned," he laughs a little, looking down at her slim fingers in his hand. "But right now the only thing I can think of is that I love you. I know in my heart that I will always love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you."

He looks back up at her face, watching tears build up in her eyes, her love shining out clearer than ever before. "I want to share the rest of my life with you, Bones. Good, bad, boring, I'll be right here. If you want me."

Brennan gasps as he opens the box and takes out the ring. Even in the dim morning light the deep blue gem sparkles. Brennan instantly recognizes the similarities to the ring his grandmother had and understands that he wants a marriage just as strong. Booth lifts her hand to settle over his heart, feeling like it is thumping hard enough to burst.

"I love you. Beyond breath," he smiles as she chuckles tearfully, glad that she recognizes the quote.

"Beyond reason," she continues, clutching his hand tightly.

Taking one last shuddering breath, Booth opens himself to her answer. "Temperance Brennan will you marry me?"

Brennan looks into his eyes, letting her tears flow freely without care. "Yes."

"Yeah?" A huge goofy and relived smile fills his face, his eyes shinning brightly as she nods.

Feeling like her face is going to split with the force of her smile, Brennan watches as he slides the ring on her finger, lovingly kissing her hand. "It fits. I was worried about that."

"I love you," Brennan chuckles and wraps her arms around him, kissing him passionately.

"Mmm. We can wait to clean, right?" he murmurs, unwrapping her from her robe.

Wrapping one long leg around his waist, she brings him down on top of her. "I insist."


	9. Chapter 9

**Hey I'm 24 today. 24 on the 24th, makes me giggle lol. I aimed to have this done by today cause I know how busy I will be this coming week and I'm so glad that it worked out that way lol.**

**Thanks to harper83 and musicnlyrics for helping me out and dealing with my confusing mind lol**

**Chapter 9**

As the sun shines through the half-drawn curtains, the only sound heard in the room is the shifting of bodies against bed sheets. The couple is settled in each other's arms, Brennan's head resting over Booth's heart, the steady beat having lulled her to sleep a few hours before. Booth lifts her hand, gently lying his lips on the skin under the where the ring is settled.

Light glimmers off the blue stone, the dark color striking against the paleness of her finger. He breathes in the scent of her hair with a deep breath, amazement still settled over him that she actually said yes. A wide lazy smile again spreads over his face. She said yes, Temperance Brennan, his Bones, agreed to be his wife. Running his fingers up her arm to her back, Booth slides don to bury his face in her neck.

She instinctively tilts her head to allow him better access as she slowly wakes up. Stretching her back into his caressing hand, a sound close to a purr flows from her throat. He lays his head on the pillow across from her just in time to see her eyes blink open. She smiles sleepily at him, her hand resting on his stubbled cheek in an affectionate gesture she's had since the start of waking their up together.

"Hi," she sighs, her thumb moving in an absent-minded arc. "What time is it?"

"Not sure," Booth replies. "It was about eight when I called in sick but that was a while ago."

"What?" Her eyes clear of all sleep and she quickly sits up, leaning over him to look at the clock on the nightstand. "Booth I have to go to school!"

Booth watches in amusement as she drags off the covers and dashes to the bathroom. He plops onto his back tiredly, feeling the lost hours of sleep. He hears the shower start and the slight bang of a drawer and he smiles, imagining the sight of Brennan as she hurriedly gets out a towel in her panic to not be late for school.

His smile slowly fades. Six months apart, each of them in two separate countries. He's going to miss waking up with her, being able to meet her for lunch at the diner or at Sid's. The way she sometimes needs the punch lines from TV shows explained to her and even then she still laughs. He's sure that it will take him weeks to get used to sleeping alone in the bed, without her snuggled up to his back and breathing warmly onto his neck. There's a million things, he knows, but just in general he's going to miss her. He sits up with a sigh, fighting back the thoughts. He'll deal with all of that tomorrow, today is about spending time with his fiancée.

"Booth!" Brennan's yells breaks through his thoughts. "Start the coffee!"

"Yeah!" he yells back, rising from the bed and pulling on his sweats, shaking his head with a fond smile.

Finishing tying her damp hair into a braid, Brennan follows the wonderful aroma into the kitchen where she admires her fiancé clad only in low slung sweats as he stand by the counter. She walks over to him as Booth pours a generous spoonful of sugar into his coffee, softly humming to himself. Using the same spoon he stirs his morning drink, turning his head to the left to look at Brennan as she places one hand on his back. She smiles at him, reaching out in front of him to reach for her favorite mug. Watching the sapphire of her ring shimmer in the morning light as she pours the coffee has Brennan's heart surging with happiness and an uncontrollable grin spreading across her face.

"Sugar?" Booth offers her, a twinkle in his eyes, catching her happy grin.

She accepts, unable to stop her chuckle at his look. "Thank you."

"You know, you could play hooky with me," Booth says smoothly, wrapping his arms around her from the back and placing soft, seductive kisses on her neck. "Spend the day together. Possibly in _bed_? Neither one of us got much sleep last night."

"Booth," Brennan tries very hard not to giggle as he sucks on her neck, squirming to turn around in his arms. "I cant."

"Yes, you can. Know why?"

She opens her mouth to answer but is silenced by his lips, the kiss bypassing sweet into passionate. Her knees turn to jelly and her hands grip his forearms tightly, her eyes staying closed seconds after he pulls back.

"That is a good point," Brennan smiles, her eyes glazed over.

"Yeah? I thought so too," Booth smirks, diving back in to devour her neck. "Stay."

"Okay. But I need…oh," Brennan bites her lip to hold back a moan as Booth's large hands cup her butt, giving a slight squeeze. "I need to uh…to go to my first class at least. Turn in my paper."

"That's what? An hour?"

"Yes." Hands firmly planted on his chest, Brennan pushes him back. Feeling sorry at his pout she leans back in for a quick kiss before dodging away from his grabby hands, grabbing her coffee. "I'll be back. I love you."

"Bones, wait!" Booth hurries to her as she picks up her bag, his hands wrapping around her waist as he claims her mouth in a slow sensual kiss. Smiling cockily he pulls back. "I love you too."

With a chuckle she walks out, smiling over at him over her shoulder.

* * *

><p>After her class Brennan stands outside the door to Professor Stires office, her thumb caressing over her engagement ring. She is still surprised how wonderful it feels on her finger and how much she loves it. She smiles, remembering the look on Booth's face the night before when the ring box had fallen out. She can only hope he's not as facially expressive interrogating suspects as he is at home.<p>

His face was very expressive that morning, his initial feelings over her dig very obvious. He looked so hurt, she remembers with a shot of guilt. She wishes now that she had waited to tell him like Angela had asked her. Her eyes widen a fraction and she looks down at her ring, realizing the artist knew about the proposal.

"Tempe." Michael smiles, obviously shaking her from her thoughts. Too focused on the hint of cleavage revealed by her v-neck sweater, he doesn't notice the glitter of her ring as she adjusts the strap of her bag. "Waiting for me?"

"Yes." Brennan waits for him to open his office and follows him in.

Michael rises his eyebrows as he sits behind his desk. "Did you want to talk more about Guatemala?"

"Actually, I have decided to accept." She smiles slightly in response to his wide grin, excitement sparking inside her though she again rubs her ring with her thumb.

"I think you're making a wonderful decision for your career, Tempe," Stires tells her in his best reassuring voice, leaning his elbows on the desk. She simply nods. "Well, I'm done for a few hours. I'll take you to lunch, to celebrate. Do you like French food?"

"I actually prefer Italian. And thank you but I cant today, I'm spending the day celebrating with Booth," she declines, a happy smile breaking through. "He proposed this morning."

"Oh. Congratulations." Stires leans back, tilting his head skeptically. "Have you told him about Guatemala?"

"Of course I have," Brennan frowns. "Why would you think I haven't?"

"Well, I'm just a little surprised that a guy like him would be okay with his fiancée leaving for six months," Michael shrugs with an amused and arrogant smile.

Brennan opens her mouth to respond but is interrupted by a brisk knock and the office door opening to reveal a young raven-haired woman with a hesitant smile. "Hi. I'm sorry, Professor Stires, but you said to come by during your office hours?"

"Yes, of course. Just a minute," Stires stands along with Brennan. "I'll get everything finalized and give you the paperwork after class tomorrow."

With a simple nod Brennan slings her bag on her shoulder and leaves, using long quick strides so that she can be home sooner.

* * *

><p>"Angela, I'm telling you we should just wait," Hodgins tries to reason as the elevator surges upward. "She'll call you after it happens, you know that."<p>

"Booth will very angry if we interrupt his proposal," Zack says nervously. "And he has a gun."

"Why are you even here?" Hodgins asks irritated and unwilling to admit sharing the same fear of the FBI agent.

"I live in your garage, Angela was giving me a ride home," Zack answers, frowning. "What about you? I thought you had a meeting?"

"I rescheduled. Angela told me was heading over to browbeat Booth into telling her about the proposal and I came to stop her."

"It doesn't appear to be working."

His anger now rising up, Hodgins turns towards the younger man. "You know, you could have stayed in the car."

"Boys," Angela interrupts mildly as the elevator opens. "Why don't you both wait in the car? This will go a lot easier if the testosterone level isn't too high."

"Well I guess its safe for Zack then," Hodgins smirks. "We all-"

"Oh my gosh!" Speaking in a harsh whisper, Angela pulls both men behind a corner with surprising strength.

Hodgins winces at the tight grip she has on his arm. "Angela, wha-"

"Ssshhhh!" Angela releases his arm to repeatedly slap his arm, carefully peeking around the corner. "Brennan's outside her apartment! She's supposed to have class right now!"

Hodgins eyes widen in realization but Zack just looks puzzled. "So?"

"Ssshhhh!" the couple turn glares on him.

"Oh she went in!" Hodgins tilts his head in appreciation as Angela does an excited booty shake. "Oh my gosh! He could be asking her right now!"

"Then we should go and let her call you later," Hodgins urges, taking her arm and trying to lead her away.

"No," Angela pulls her arm free. "What if I just…wait for a while and then go knock?"

"Angela, do you remember when we got engaged? How much alone time did we need after?"

"Oh yeah, that was nice," she smiles saucily. "It's been awhile since we've done that."

"Isn't Booth at work?" Zack breaks in.

"That's right," Hodgins says slowly, narrowing his eyes. "Why is Brennan home?"

"Oh, maybe something happened at school," Angela says worriedly, knowing how awkward her friend still is. "I'm going to go check."

"Wait, what if Booth asked her come home early?" Hodgins suggests.

"How can we be sure?" Angela asks, exchanging looks with the others.

Inside the apartment Brennan finishes removing her socks, placing them inside her shoes by the door. Now that they are free she wiggles her toes, calling out for Booth.

"Right here," he walks into view from the bedroom, chest naked and a clean shirt in his hands. "How was class?"

Brennan takes in his damp hair and concludes that he must have taken a shower. Knowing the apartment couldn't have taken that long to clean she assumes that he was working out. She sees him going through his routine in her mind and her breath thickens in response. Getting close to her he raises his arms to put on the fabric and his abdominal muscles clench. Acting on instinct she moves forward and rakes her fingers over his stomach, fusing her mouth to his as its revealed.

Booth is stunned for a second but her wandering hands kick him into gear. With a groan he pulls her close, running a hand under the back of her shirt. Needing air, he moves his lips to her neck, chuckling as she tries vainly to pull off his shirt without disconnecting their bodies.

A loud thump on the front door breaks them apart. Shuffling and indistinguishable whispers can be heard through the wood. Automatically placing Brennan behind him Booth moves forward to open the door, sparing her a quick frown as she tries to press in front of him. Swinging the door opens reveals the humorous site of Zack, Hodgins and half standing Angela, each with owlish eyes that clearly say, "caught me".

"What the hell are you doing?" Booth asks annoyed, making sure his shirt is tugged all the way down.

"Well, see, I was coming to talk to you," Angela stumbles to explain, leaning on Hodgins to stand up fully.

"But then we saw Brennan here instead of at school," Hodgins continues, whether nervous or embarrassed isn't quite clear.

"We were worried that something may have happened to her," Zack takes up, speaking rapidly. "But we didn't know if you were home or not and if you were there was a high probability that you were-"

"Busy!" Angela interrupts loudly, smiling toothily. "So I thought I'd listen at the door and if I heard your voice we would leave. Then I fell over and…we're sorry."

"Sorry," Hodgins and Zack say at the same time.

Brennan is highly amused but Booth's eagerness to get back to their previous activity outweighs his humor. Wrapping his arm around Brennan's waist to pull her back into the apartment, he starts to edge the door close.

"Well, she's fine," he says a little curtly, nodding emphatically. "We're both great and we'll see you tomorrow. Bye now."

"Oh, oh, OH!" Eyes wide Angela slaps a hand on the door with one hand, the other pointing at the blue sparkle she spotted on Brennan's hand. "Oh! Oh my god, sweetie! You're engaged!"

"Yes," Brennan smiles proudly as Booth leans in to kiss her cheek.

"Finally!" Angela squeals, throwing her arms around them both. "Oh, I'm so happy for you two!"

"Thanks Ange," Brennan laughs, hugging back.

"Can we come in? Please, let us come in," Angela pleads, pulling back.

"Come on," Booth sighs; though he is smiling.

Angela quickly drags Brennan away to the window, oh-ing and ah-ing over the ring. Zack walks in and smiles at Booth, relieved that the smile is genuinely returned.

"Hey, congratulations, man," Hodgins says with a smile, holding his hand out.

Booth returns the shake, giving his arm a friendly firm pat. "Thanks, Jack."

"Oh it's so gorgeous," Angela coos, holding Brennan's hand close to her eye. "Why does it look so familiar?"

"It's the same design as Lizzie's," Brennan explains softly.

"Oh," Angela sighs, understanding. "God that man is so special, Bren."

"I know," she smiles.

"Bones, Ange, want anything to drink? Or eat?" Booth adds with a teasing smile towards Angela.

"Don't joke about food with a pregnant woman, studly," Angela smiles with an arched eyebrow. "But ice water would be fine, thanks."

Booth chuckles. "Bones, ice tea?"

"Yes, thank you."

Angela turns back to her best friend, a happy excited smile on her face. "So, tell me. How did it happen? Was it romantic? Did he have it all elaborately planned out?"

"It was…perfect," Brennan smiles, happiness glowing in her face. "Though it wasn't what he planned. The ring fell out of his pocket after I told him I was going to Guatemala. But-"

"Wait, you're going to Guatemala?" Angela seriously, surprised. "You're sure?"

"Yes. I already told Michael." Brennan frowns at Angela's concern. "What?"

"Nothing. Its just…six months, Bren. I'm going to miss you." Angela swipes her cheek as tears start to fall. "Oh, sweetie."

"Whoa, what's wrong Angela?" Booth says concerned as he returns from the kitchen with Hodgins and Zack by his side.

"Her hormonal levels have increased her susceptibility to emotional extremes," Brennan says calmly, taking her tea from Booth.

"I'm fine," Angela chuckles tearfully, sipping her water. "Come on, tell me all about the proposal. I'm dying here!"

* * *

><p>In the dark of the bedroom the couple lays cuddled together, breaths evening out after sharing their passion for each other. Running a hand over Brennan's smooth back, Booth softly kisses her shoulder. Brennan hums in lazy pleasure, sliding her leg along his under the blanket that was barely saved from being tossed to the floor. Her thoughts travel over the events of the day, focusing in on the stunned reaction of her friends as she told them about her upcoming departure.<p>

"Booth," she says softly, leaning her head back to look at his face.

"Bones," he half smiles.

"I want you to know…I want to tell you that…"

Booth brushes hair back from her face, knowing to stay silent as she works out the words she wants to say. The loving gesture and his silent patience warms her heart and helps clear up her thoughts.

"You a very wonderful man," she says seriously, her love bursting through her eyes. "I'm very happy with you and I'm looking forward to spending the rest of my life loving you."

"Bones," Booth whispers not sure what else to say, trailing his fingers gently over her cheek.

"I'm coming back in four months," she declares, looking straight in his eyes.

Booth shifts his shoulders, looking puzzled. "I thought it was six?"

"If it becomes an option, it's not required for me." She reaches up to twine her fingers through his. "I'm staying four months and then coming home."

"Bones…I love you," Booth says, feeling like maybe he should encourage her to stay but just not having the strength to be that selfless. He kisses their tangled fingers, smiling gently at her. "You know I'm going to be emailing you daily, right?"

"Yes, I expected that," Brennan shakes her head with a roll of her eyes. "But that's actually wise. That way I can communicate with both you and Angela about the wedding and you can make the arrangements."

"What? No," Booth says adamantly, though both of their voices are still soft, as if to speak louder would disturb the darkness around them. "No Bones, I'm not planning _our _wedding with Angela. It's going to be me and you, going around making the choices together, okay? I'll wait for you to get back."

"But why draw it out? It's just a party, Booth," Brennan frowns.

"No it's not. It's a _ceremony_, Bones. It's…" He takes a deep breath, raking his mind for a way to make her understand. "Okay, Bones, it's a ritual. Like those ancient societies you study."

Brennan nods slowly. "Okay."

"Okay, so every ritual has traditions and each of those traditions are significant…and _important_," Booth emphasizes, smiling as realization fills her eyes. "Going to the bakery and testing those little pieces of cake or arguing over the perfect menu…its important to me that I do that with _you_."

Brennan nods in acceptance, a small smile blooming on her lips. "I think…you just don't want to have to handle a wedding crazed Angela."

"You think I've forgotten how she was with her wedding?" Booth chuckles. "No thank you. You're not doing that to me."

Brennan laughs, her smiling lips meeting his but pulls back sharply before they delve too deeply, to his great disappointment. "We didn't tell Pops."

"Pops already knows," Booth waves off, moving back into her but again she pulls away.

"How?"

"He's Pops," he says simply, rolling her underneath him. "Can we focus here? We were having a moment."

Laughter filling the room, they roll over the bed together, celebrating their love.

**I think this is longer than any of the other chapters. Okay, thoughts?**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

"What is wrong with that guy?" Hodgins says indignantly, shaking his head.

"They both need to be at the same location at the same time," Zack tries to puzzle out, his concentration on evenly buttering his roll and missing the glares from Hodgins and Booth. "I assume Professor Stires was just being nice by offering the logical solution of driving Brennan to the airport."

"Bullshit," Booth scoffs. "There's no way in hell anyone but me is going to driver her tomorrow. Stires knows that, he's just a dick."

Zack looks up with a confused frown, opening his mouth to question the comparison but thinks better of it. The older men both look to the bathroom where the ladies have gone minutes before, mild concern in both pair of eyes at how long they've been gone. The aroma of chow mien in front of them again assails their nostrils so with a shrug towards the other, they dig in.

"Last plate," Sid says, setting a large dish of broccoli and beef down, steam still rising up from the hot food.

Booth smiles at his friend, using the large serving spoon to scoop some on his plate. "Thanks Sid. You joining us man?"

"Cant. Got to take care of the suits," he shakes his head regretfully, pointing a thumb over his shoulder towards a large group of businessmen across the restaurant. "What time is the bone lady's flight? Early right?"

"Yeah," Booth nods, his fork playing with his noodles as his appetite decreases with the approach of the separation.

The past ten days seemed to have flown by, much too quickly for the FBI agent's liking. The couple had spent every possible moment together, neither taking a second of the other's company for granted though it was never verbally acknowledged. They have talked about communication arrangements though to an outsider the "conversations" would have sounded more like arguments. But eventually they agreed that Booth could send as many emails as he'd like but Brennan will only send on per day, with three missed days without prior warning the minimum for worry. No matter how many emails are exchanged or video chats arranged he's going to be worried until she's back in his arms.

"What do you think?" Hodgins asks, stuffing a forkful of orange chicken into his mouth.

Shaken from his thoughts Booth sits up straighter, stabbing at his food. "What do I think"

"Yeah, about Sam?" Booth just looks baffled. "The name. For my kid. Sam."

"Oh well, yeah. It's great. Great name for a boy. Not going for Jack JR?" he smiles, picking up his beer for a sip.

"That's how he refers to his penis, Zack says and turns his head to avoid getting beer and half chewed food spit in his face.

Inside the ladies bathroom if one were to look under the only occupied stall they would see two pairs of feet' the click of heels overshadowed by the sound of retching as a certain pregnant artist moves back over the toilet. Holding Angela's hair back with one hand, Brennan uses the other to run smoothing circles on her back. With a groan Angela stands back p, accepting the piece of toilet paper to wipe her mouth. As her friend recovers Brennan walks to the sink to dampen a paper towel.

"Okay, I think its over," Angela sighs, gratefully accepting the paper towel. "Sorry our bathroom break got side tracked by morning-or well _evening_ sickness. Thanks sweetie."

"Do you feel like you should go home?" Brennan asks concerned.

"No, I'm fine, Bren. This is my new normal." Already regain her characteristic smile she leads the way to the sink, digging into her purse. "Which includes carrying a travel size toothbrush and toothpaste."

Reading her toothbrush, Angela glances to her left and sees her profile in the long mirror. One hand goes to her stomach, softly caressing. "I think my baby bump is coming in."

"Your baby bump?"

"Yeah, I think I'm starting to show. See?" Lifting her shirt up slightly, Angela begins to brush her teeth.

Brennan looks at the artist's still mostly flat abdomen then p to her glowing face and excited eyes. She chooses her words carefully, not wanting to dampen her best friend's mood but not willing to lie.

"Yes, _I _can visually tell you are pregnant."

Angela rinses her mouth and toothbrush, replacing her hand over hr child as she turns to face Brennan. "Yesterday? I think I felt it move."

"The baby?" Brennan frowns; knowing it is impossible until later in the baby's development.

"Yeah, Angela smiles widely. "I was sitting on the couch and there was this little…movement. Like shifting? It was beyond words."

"It was probably gas," she feels she must point out.

Angela's mouth falls open in shock. "My baby is not just gas!"

"Of course it isn't. But Angela, its still a fetus only approximately eight centimeters long," Brennan explains, holding out her fingers to demonstrate. "The legs won't be developed enough to press against you in any significant way for another few months."

"Oh." Brennan watches the disappointment and embarrassment obviously fall over her friend and feels guilty.

"Your rectus abdominus muscles do seem to be more rotund." Angela turns to her quizzically so she points, replying weakly. "Your baby bump."

Angela smiles recognizing Brennan's attempt. "Thanks sweetie. I don't even want to think how 'rotund' I'm going to look at your wedding. I promise not try to not pop the kid out during the reception."

"You will already have delivered by then," Brennan informs her, starting to walk out of the bathroom, sure her friend will follow.

But Angela grabs her arm and moves to block her path, her eyebrows raised high. "Hang on a minute. Explain that please."

"Women usually carry their offspring for-"

"Not that," Angela waves impatiently. "The other part."

"Oh. Booth and I are waiting until I return to start planning together. And that could take months."

"You guys are going to bicker about everything. Should be interesting," Angela smiles, the pair finally walking out of the bathroom. She notices the brightness on Brennan's face and her smile softens, as does her voice. "You're looking forward to it all, aren't you?"

"Yes," Brennan admits with a large smile. She stops a few steps out of sight of their table, her smile turning into an unsure expression. "You will be my principal attentdent at the wedding, won't you?"

"Sweetie, you didn't have to ask," Angela chuckles, hugging her tightly. "Of course I'll be your maid of honor."

"As you're married the proper tittle is actually matron of honor," Brennan explains pulling back. With great distress she watches as Angela's eyes fill with tears, two drops leaking down her cheeks. "Wha-I didn't mean to offend you! I'm sorry."

"Oh sweetie that's not…I'm sorry," Angela wipes at her face, her eyes still brimming with moisture. "You didn't offend me."

Brennan looks at her completely bewildered. "Then why are you crying?"

"Because…you know the proper term for almost everything. Because you still don't get half of my movie references and yet you still lied about seeing my baby bump." with a tearful sigh she weakly smiles, her voice crack. "Because my best friends leaving. I'm going to miss you."

Brennan feels tears stinging her own eyes as she half smiles, trying to joke. "Your hormonal imbalance is making you overly emotional again."

But the artist doesn't laugh, her dark eyes staring straight into her best friend's. "No Brennan, they're not."

Giving in Brennan wraps her arms around her metaphorical sister, two tears trailing down her face. As they embrace each other, Brennan looks over at the table, her eyes finding Booth's. They stare at each other, compassion and understanding radiating out of his gaze as well as sadness. It isn't until Angela shifts away that the connection is broken. They don't speak simply wiping their faces and walking to the table to sit with their men. Brennan slides as close to Booth as possible, taking his hand in hers under the table. She squeezes tightly, her goodbye to Angela hitting with the full force of what the next day brings. Angela clears her throat; her usual smile back in its place though her eyes are red from her tears.

"Looks like we got some of everything here," she says to try and lighten the mood, pulling a dish towards her. "This looks gre-"

"No, you don't want that," Booth advises, pointing with his free hand and a grimace.

"Why?" Angela asks confused, flickering her eyes from him and Hodgins as he moves the plate away.

"I had a choking incident and it was a casualty," Hodgins explains, glaring at Zack and handing his wife a different plate of food.

Oblivious to the glare, Zack sits up straight, sipping from his water glass. "I would like to say something."

"No," Booth and Hodgins both say forcefully, surprising the others.

"Guys," Angela admonishes.

"Go ahead Zack," Brennan encourages him, frowning at her fiancée.

"I-I just wanted to um." Now unsettled he looks at the two older men before focusing on the less intimidating eyes of Brennan. "I wanted to say that I'm going to miss your presence very much. And I wish you well and hope you'll come back soon."

"Thank you Zack," Brennan smiles at him.

After a short pause conversation starts to flow, food distributed around the table. Angela leads the topic towards Booth and Brennan's wedding, though Booth easily shifts the attention to the parents-to-be and the baffleness that still hovers over their weeklong engagement. Soon the group is laughing over tales from Hodgins about Angela's father, stories also aided by Angela and Brennan who is a surprising favorite of the old rocker.

Throughout it all Brennan and Booth are always in contact, exchanging simple yet heartfelt kisses to cheeks and lips that the others don't ignore for their sakes. All too soon the food is eaten and dessert is being laid down. Finally able to break away from his duties Sid lays down six glasses on the table, pouring an amber liquid in each.

As he is passed his drink, Zack frowns worriedly. "I can't have this. I am only 20-"

"Ah, ah, ah, I can't hear you. And you don't see nothing, right?" Sid adds with a raided eyebrow to Booth who shakes his head with a smile, laying his arm around Brennan's shoulders. "Alright.

"To simple pleasures," Sid says holing up his glass before draining it, the others following suit. The men chuckle as poor Zack coughs.

**So very very sorry its taken so long. Life sucks sometimes. But I should be updating regularly again (about once a week). Please review to assure me I havent lost everyone with that long wait. Just so you know, I'm planning on updating The Oldest Booth** **and writing a one shot for something else before updating this. Thanks so much to musicnlyrics for reading over the chapter. She rocks! Thanks for reading everyone :-)**


	11. Author Note

**Okay, I am so sorry that this isn't an update. But for numerous reasons I just cant write now. I don't want to ruin the story by just putting down anything. So I am going to take a short break from my stories. I'm hoping that taking a step back and just relaxing a bit (gonna say "hello" to the beach for a few days) will allow me to properly write the story I see so vividly in my head. Please stick with me with this, and my other stories. I am NOT abandoning them. They will get finished. Thank you thank you thank you for all the reviews and alerts. I will be back, I promise.**

**cmol8806**


	12. Chapter 11

**Okay, finally, an update. Life is…crazy. I first want to say thank you to everyone being understanding of my break. You guys are all awesome. I also need to thank musicnlyrics (that's right, I thanked you again. :-P Hahaha), harper83, mendenbar, thorteso and my brother for their help/input on this (and other stories). I should have thanked them before and I didn't. But thank you. Also this is up now and not the middle of next week because my mom made a point of giving me the time and space to write this. So thanks Mama!**

**Okay, enough from me. Here it is. Thoughts are welcomed just please don't be mean. Also, **B*B*B*B **means flashbacks.**

**Chapter 11**

The red digits on the black clock change right before Brennan's somber eyes. Another minute has gone by, leaving only two hours until the alarm sounds and she rises from Booth's arms for the last time for the next few months. Very gently her thumb moves over her ring, the smooth metal warm from her skin. Calling herself silly, she admits that she's going to miss having it on her finger, instead it will hang on a chain from her neck to protect it while she works. Her first inclination was to give it to Hank to hold until her return but she quickly changed her mind. Booth gave it to her and would place more meaning in that action than she intended; she doesn't want to make anything harder for him, she's hurting him enough already.

Her movements restricted by Booth's tight embrace, she rolls over gently as to not wake him. Expecting to find the familiar sight of his handsome sleeping face, Brennan is surprised to see his eyes are open, gazing at her. There is no hint of sleep on his face and she's almost positive he's been awake as long as she has. They stare at each other, re-memorizing every dip and curve.

Hundreds of words are exchanged without even a sigh to break the silence. Booth's arm is still around her and he tightens his hold, as if to cement their bodies together. Placing her hand on his cheek, Brennan leans in to capture his lips.

Booth meets her halfway, instantly deepening the kiss with slow sensual strokes of his tongue. Brennan moans, her fingers threading through his hair only to clutch tightly as his warm palm glides over her breast. With a firm squeeze to the soft mound under his hand Booth shifts to lean over her, her leg wrapping around his waist.

Their lovemaking the night before had been hot and fierce with despair hinting around the edges, both filled with thoughts of what will be missing in the coming months. But this is a direct contrast to that. Instead of demanding kisses and rough hands, there are softly meeting lips and gentle touches. Where the room was filled with grunts of possessive yells of 'more', it is now filled with quiet gasps and sighs. The worries and premature longing are temporarily gone; each thought focused solely on the other and the wonderful sensations as they tumble around the bed.

Brennan arches her back, eyes rolling back in ecstasy as his hot mouth settles at her breast, a hand delving between her thighs. Her nails rake over the smooth muscle of his back, her other hand sliding past his love bite covered chest to stroke his throbbing shaft. At her touch Booth instantly breaks away from her chest, claiming her mouth instead. Their hands entwine as Booth connects them with a deep thrust, swallowing her moan.

Breaths short, Brennan breaks her lips away, freeing her limbs simply to cling to him tightly. Above her closed eyes Booth watches her face, leaning on his arms as he savors every shudder running through both their bodies. He leans down to gently suck her bottom lip and her eyes open languidly, the blue pools glazed and darkened by pleasure. Drowning in that gaze, Booth starts to quicken his movements, bringing Brennan with him towards the ultimate peak.

"Seeley!" she cries as they explode together, her fingers leaving little crescents on his back.

Booth kisses her shoulder as his heart slows, one hand running over Brennan's thigh in a calming caress. Still panting he rolls off, bringing her with him to snuggle into his side. Brennan leans over him, balancing herself on his chest. Her face is flushed from her passion and her eyes are as bright as her smile. Her hair cradling their faces, she leans down to kiss him lovingly. Booth raises his hands to brush back her hair, holding her face close after the short kiss. Slowly everything comes back to them, both knowing they only have a few hours left.

Booth wraps his arms around her tightly, settling her head under his chin and Brennan lets him.

**B*B*B*B**

"Would you like anything to drink, miss?"

"What?" distracted from her thoughts, Brennan looks up at the bubbly blonde.

"Would you like some soda or water?" the flight attendant asks kindly. Having been in this career for a few years she has learned to recognize that glazed distracted look: the blue eyed woman has left someone she loves.

"Water, please. Thank you."

Receiving the small bottle with a halfhearted smile of thanks, Brennan turns back towards the minuscule window. The warm glow of sun shifts through the thick sprinkle of clouds, the sky a backdrop of the clearest blue Brennan has ever seen. Soft voices float around her, idle chitchat that holds no interest to her. As she sips the cool water slips down her tight throat, pushing back the tears she keeps reminding herself she has no reason to shed.

With a shake of her head to dispel the unwanted emotions, she reaches down to her feet for her carryon bag, intending to reread her list of duties for the dig. The brown bag is filled almost bursting thanks to her caring, over-protective fiancé. Multiple boxes of raisins, bottles of water, pretzels, bananas and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich fight for space along with two thick folders inside the bag bought specially for this trip. In her quest for her folder her hands bump across the gifts given to her by the Hodgins couple. As if the little box and laminated cards were jewels, she pulls them out and smiles down at them fondly.

**B*B*B*B**

"Here you go, ma'am. Have a nice trip."

"Thank you," Brennan takes her passport and airline ticket from the extremely bored looking airport worker. She steps out of line to see Stires waiting for her a few steps away from the security check.

"Ready, Tempe?" he asks with an expectant grin, body tilted to the side by the weight of his carry-on bag. "We don't want to miss our flight."

"Yes. Um," her eyes travel past her professor to the gathering of her makeshift family and she doesn't even pause her steps as she continues walking, speaking over her shoulder. "I'll be a moment, Michael."

"You had me worried there for a second, Bren," Angela teases, though the barely controlled tears in her eyes betray her playful smile. "Thought you were going to leave us without a last goodbye."

"Well, you should have a little more faith in me," Brennan smiles, slipping her bag off her shoulders and onto a nearby seat.

Zack is the first to step forward, his hair badly in need of a new haircut and framing his still cherubic face. "This Eco-warrior look works for you."

Brennan glances at her best friend, knowing that the compliment originates from her rather than the young man in front of her. "Thank you, Zack."

"Will you give me updates on what you find?" Zack requests eagerly. "Only if you're allowed, of course."

"Absolutely." With surprisingly little awkwardness Brennan steps forward and gives him a hug. "I'll miss you Zack."

"I'll miss you too."

Zack steps back after the short hug, placing his hands in his pockets. Hodgins steps up next, looking a little anxious. In his hands are lamented cards on a metal ring that he flips through quickly as he speaks intently.

"Okay I made you this chart of all the poisonous reptiles and insects," he says seriously, concern radiating from his blue eyes. "What they look like, how to avoid them and what to do if you get stung or bitten."

Brennan takes the cards from the man who has been a brother to her for five years, smiling softly. "Thank you, Jack. I love you too."

"Wow," Hodgins says with wide eyes, laughing slightly. His friend just tilts her head so he nods, moving forward to hug her tightly. "Don't skimp on that repellant. I'll send more when you need it."

"Okay, Jack, come on," Angela says as she moves close, urging her husband away. "Stires is starting to look a little antsy."

"He can wait," Hodgins, Booth and Hank all say irritably; Brennan and Angela chuckle.

Angela faces her best friend, her metaphoric sister, and holds out small box. "Here. Open it on the plane."

"Ok. Thank you," Brennan takes it with a curious frown. "What is it?"

"Something to help pass the time on your flight. Or tune out any overly talkative professors," the artist smiles with an eyebrow lift.

"Ok," she smiles, gladly stepping into the hug and holding tightly. "Send me pictures of the baby bump progression."

"Try and stop me," Angela chuckles. "Also expect at least weekly wedding suggestions. I still kind of wish you'd let me get a head start on that for you."

"Sorry," Brennan laughs lightly.

Angela pulls back, holding the other woman by the shoulders, her damp eyes serious. "Take care of yourself."

"Always." With a final shoulder squeeze Angela steps aside and Brennan has a clear view of two pairs of similar brown eyes.

**B*B*B*B**

A body sinks into the spot next to her and she looks over. Stires settles comfortably in his seat, turning his head to smile at his student. He sighs in slight irritation at her slightly sad and lost eyes but hides it well. In a few days he'll use those emotions to finally get the voluptuous Temperance Brennan in his bed. He sees what she has in her hands and gestures towards them with his head, curious.

"What do you have?"

Brennan shrugs, stuffing the cards from Hodgins back into her bag and opening the box from Angela. "Gifts. From my friends."

"That's nice. Well, have you had a chance to look over the dig information?"

"Yes. I am…fully informed," Brennan says distractedly, looking down at the black iPod in her hands. Stires is clearly speaking to her but she ignores him, instead scrolls through the songs uploaded on her new iPod. Her smile grows as she continues through and she associates each song with a memory.

_Mambo No. 5_

_Thuggish Ruggish Road_

_Sharp Dressed Man_

_Somebody to Love_

_Everything_

_Wannabe_

_Girls Just Want to Have Fun_

"Tempe?"

Brennan looks up, dropping her silly grin as Stires frowns at her.

"I'm sorry. I'm…tired. I didn't get much sleep last night," she says with tight lips, not knowing how easily he sees through her lie. "What were you saying?"

Michael opens his mouth but the refreshment- bearing flight attendant has returned. While ordering a drink distracts him, Brennan puts in the ear buds and faces the window, settling comfortably in her seat as Cyndi Lauper belts out her anthem. She feels Michael shift next to her and risks a small glance out of the corner of her eye. He has his own earphones on and his head is tilted back, eyes closed. She knows she should feel guilty and disappointed in her lack of professional discipline but right at this moment she can't. Maybe she wasn't lying as she thought when she said she was tired.

The opening riff of a very familiar song drags forth the brilliant visual of Booth. As Foreigner sings in her ears of having fever of 103 Brennan's left hand, which feels so much lighter than it did only an hour before, reaches up to twist the metal chain hanging from her neck. This is the first time the chain has ever been worn by her though she has seen it everyday for almost five years.

**B*B*B*B**

Hank Booth smiles as Brennan takes a step towards him, holding out his arms.

"Come here, sweetheart." As his sturdy arms surround her Brennan closes her eyes, her senses soaking in as much of him as they can. "No crying. You'll be back before you know it."

Pulling away he holds her by the upper arms, his gaze tender and despite his previous command, watery. "I'm very proud of you, do you know that? Very proud."

She smiles and accepts his kiss to her cheek. Over his shoulder her eyes search through the passing crowd around her, hope pouring out. Even as Hank and the rest move aside to give some aspect of privacy she looks out, disappointment taking the place of hope.

"Russ probably didn't get the message, Bones," Booth says softly, standing close with his hands in his pockets. "He would be here if he did. He loves you."

"Yeah," she sighs, turning her attention to Booth. "Will…will you tell him…?"

"Yeah," Booth nods, brushing her cheek softly with the back of his hand.

She looks into his eyes and thoughts of her brother fades away. There is only them, only him and how much she loves. Not able to find the words to express what she feels so strongly she collides into him, her arms latching on to his warm body as tightly as she can. She concentrates on his heart beating against hers, of his lips kissing her head, so gently, showing how precious she is to him. She soaks up every detail, making it last, as it is the last embrace they will share for months.

"I want to get married in November," she says softly, moving so their faces are only inches apart. "Doesn't have to be this year but…November. Outside, with lots of trees."

"Okay," Booth smiles slightly, brushing her nose with his. "We'll become Mr. and Mrs. Booth under falling November leaves."

"I still haven't decided if I'm taking your name yet," Brennan says with a face, earning a chuckle and a whisper of a kiss.

"Doesn't matter. Bones, I…I got you something here." Eyes serious and almost pleading Booth pulls something out of his pocket. "I need you to wear it for me, ok?"

He holds up it up and Brennan blinks, brow creased. "It's your St. Christopher medallion."

"Yeah. Patron Saint of Travelers," Booth nods, looking down at the old metal for second. "It kept me safe. I'm counting on it doing the same for you."

"Okay," she agrees, smiling at his very obvious surprise. "What?"

"I just expected to have to persuade you a little more," he admits, not hiding his astonishment at all. "I mean, you don't believe in God and Heaven, let alone Saints."

"No I don't," she says definitely, looking into his eyes. "But you do."

He accepts her reasoning with a small smile. He places it over her head himself, following the path of her shoulders and arms down to her hands. Their fingers interlace, his gaze again intense with seriousness and worry.

"Listen Bones, you…you really got to be careful in that jungle, okay?"

"Booth, I'll be fine," she assures him. "I…I have to go."

"Okay. Come here."

Keeping one hand clenched with hers, Booth presses her back to hold her close. Their foreheads touch for a long moment; eyes closed before his lips find hers. Very slowly, savoring every second he deepens the kiss. She inhales his scent, just as he does hers, and tears rush forward into her throat. Her grip on his hands tightens almost painfully and their kiss is broken by her gasp. Eyes now open she presses her lips firmly to his, her free hand smoothing over his cheek.

"I love you," she says strongly.

"I know," Booth nods, somehow working up a smile, bringing up their joined hands for a quick kiss. "I love you, too."

With a sigh she turns around to her bag. Slipping it on her shoulder she smiles around at those who have bid her goodbye. She looks into Booth's chocolate eyes, for once executing a perfect whisper.

"Four months."

"Four months," he echoes just as softly.

She walks over to Stires, who silently leads the way into the security check line. Unable to resist Brennan looks back once more, straight into Booth's eyes. He smiles once more, giving a small wave that she returns. And with that, she turns around.

**B*B*B*B**

"Hot blooded! You're making me sing! Hot-blooded! For your sweet, sweet thing."

As the song fades out, Brennan slips the tip of her finger into her engagement ring hanging from the chain. She had placed it there shortly after take-off, when Michael had gone to the restroom. It is there that it will stay until she returns, safe from the dirt, rock and ancient remains. She has had it for such a short time but still her finger misses the weight. Feeling tears she shakes her head to dispel them. She must push her emotions back, to be professional. The song sounding through her ears is beautiful Irish flute and closing her eyes she allows the melody to soothe her.

Day one. One hundred and twenty left.


	13. Chapter 12

**Had no idea that it's been over a month since I've updated. So sorry. Good news, life combined with Bones season finale has me deciding that I don't really like them separated. So there's a good chance I wont drag it out too long. Possibly :-) **

**Thanks to musicnlyrics for reading this over for me and correcting the stupid mistakes I make. :-)**

**Chapter 12**

Booth stands still, his eyes trained on a long tail of auburn hair, his smile completely gone. Finally, and all too quickly, Brennan is no longer in sight. But his clenched fists in his pockets don't relax. He feels everyone shift around him, knowing they are looking at him and waiting for his signal to leave. But he can't do it; he knows he has to but he just…can't be the first to leave. Not without her.

Zack frowns with puzzlement, shifting to stand closer to Hodgins. "Why are we still standing here?"

Unfortunately he didn't speak as low as he thought and earns himself slight glares from his companions. Hank lays a hand on a scowling Booth's shoulder, giving his grandson a few pats.

"Alright, let's go," he says, leading the rest away.

They walk together, silently, through the crowd. The strength that Booth had kept up for Brennan's sake, to make her departure easier, is now leaving him, sadness overwhelming him. He replays their goodbye over again in his mind, seeing her follow Stires towards the plane once again. Anger sparks at the mental image of Stires and Booth latches onto that, choosing to be angry rather than sad.

Next to him Angela has been watching his face, reading his thoughts through his expressive eyes. As his jaw tightens she loops her arm through his, drawing his attention. She smiles softly, her eyes still damp by her previous tears.

"She'll be fine," she says supportively. "In a few months she'll be back, spouting five syllable words, probably waving around some bone from the Mesoplatanions."

"The Meso-"

"I know Zack, its just an example," Angela waves a hand but in a split second her face contorts with disgust, her hand now covering her mouth and nose. "Oh, god, what IS that?"

Hodgins moves towards his wife worriedly as the others look with concern. "Ange what's wrong?"

"That smell!" she groans, turning away from a man eating something from a small cardboard box. "I feel like I'm gonna…"

She sprints towards the doors, the four men jogging behind her. Angela takes three large steps out the airport doors before she stops, slightly green and gratefully breathing the fresh air. Hodgins, Booth, Zack and Hank hover around her protectively, Hodgins wrapping an arm around her waist.

"Angela are you okay?" Jack asks, turning her to face him.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine," she sighs, pouting. "But apparently not only do I have so called morning sickness, I have to be worried about strong smells making me yak."

Hodgins kisses her cheek apologetically. "Well, there goes my suggestion about getting something to eat."

"Hang on, I didn't say I wasn't hungry," Angela smiles, her normal color coming back. "I'd kill for a bacon cheeseburger."

"I was thinking more like breakfast," Hodgins begins but at his wife's narrowing eyes he quickly backtracks. "But burgers sound great."

"It's eight in the morning," Zack points out.

"The diner will have both," Hodgins says mildly, turning to the two Booths. "Meet you there? It's on me."

"I think I'm gonna go home," Booth declines, his earlier concern for Angela now dissipated.

"Are you sure, sweetie?" Angela steps forward, frowning.

Booth nods, mustering up an easygoing smile to help convince them. "Yeah. I ate earlier anyway. Thanks, though."

"Ok," Hodgins shrugs though neither he nor Angela look convinced. He shakes Booth's hand, his blue eyes filled with compassion. "If you want to go get a beer or something, just call, alright?"

"Come over for dinner tonight, ok?" Angela urges and looking into her dark eyes he knows she is aware of what he is avoiding. She pulls him into a hug, speaking to him softly. "We're family, right?"

"I got paperwork to catch up on tonight," Booth steps away with a small but genuine smile. "You go take care of my little niece or nephew and I promise I'll bring the beer for dinner tomorrow."

"You better," she points at him playfully, walking away with Hodgins and Zack.

Booth watches them leave, his upbeat expression falling away again. Shoulders hunched he turns around and finds Hank staring at him with a smirk.

"You ain't getting rid of me that easy, kid."

Booth shakes his head with a chuckle of acceptance and leads the way to his car.

* * *

><p>"Hey, I'm still watching," Hank's voice sounds from the kitchen over the faint sound of sizzling butter. "So don't even think of looking at my pieces."<p>

Booth snorts, leaning back on the sofa to look into the kitchen. "You wish that's why I win."

Booth's smiles fades as he faces forward again, looking down at the phone in his hand. The email is up, Brennan's address and the subject line are both filled in…and that's as far as he's gotten in five minutes. He just doesn't know what to write, what he should or shouldn't say. It hasn't even been that long, she's still in the air. What's he going to write? _After you left the Squints went home and I went to Pops' to eat grilled cheese sandwiches and play dominoes? _Not very captivating. But he's not going to write about what he's feeling, how the anger and already overwhelming loneliness is twisting inside his gut. How the very thought of being alone in their apartment, seeing her everywhere but knowing he wont hold her for months, is its own special type of torture.

"Here we go, eat up," Hank stops his mental struggle, carrying a plate of food and two sodas. "My turn?"

"Yep."

Hank concentrates on choosing which tile to place down, the silence broken only by the hiss of the soda cans being opened. Hank peeks at Booth, noticing the grim lines that have been settled on his face since the moment Brennan had turned away. The older man sighs quietly, sadly.

"You know that you can talk to me," he says quietly, placing his piece down on the table.

Booth says nothing for a moment, looking down at his possible moves until he chooses one. "Ten points."

Hank sighs a little louder this time but notes down the score.

"Four months is a long time," is finally spoken quietly. "Especially in Guatemala."

"You went over all the security measures, looked up where she's going to be. She'll be safe," Hank says sympathetically reassuring, knowing his concerns come from own experience in the country. "I know it feels like a long time but it's only four months."

"Pops…" voice low Booth speaks the fear that's been plaguing his sleep for over a week. "She might change her mind."

"You think she'll decided to stay the full six months?" Hank says dubiously. "I don't think so."

"No Pops, that's not what I meant." Booth gulps down soda, grimacing after, trying to ignore his grandfather's stare. "Forget it. Your turn."

"You think she'll come home and not want to marry you anymore?" Hank asks almost jokingly but Booth wordlessly looks up, his eyes clearly showing that is exactly what he was thinking. Hank narrows his eyes, tilting his head. "That's the stupidest thing you've ever said."

Booth blinks, not expecting the harsh tone. "Wha-Pops- look, you don't know Bones, she-"

"Don't tell me I don't understand that girl. I know her like I know you," irritably Hank sets his piece down, recording his score. "You're soul mates and she knows that, no matter what mumbo jumbo she spits out to describe it."

Booth smiles softly remembering a conversation about Plato's theory of soul mates. Hank presses on, not noticing.

"The very fact that she let you put that ring on her finger should be enough to convince you. She's not changing her mind," Hank releases one of his unique chuckles now amused. "If you stopped a second to actually think, you'll realize you know that. You're just freaking out a little."

"Freaking out?" Booth repeats with raised eyebrows.

"Yeah. You'll get over it."

The buzz of Booth's cell vibrating on the table breaks the conversation.

"Booth. Yes, sir. Right away." Booth stands, drowning the last of his soda. "Sorry, Pops. I gotta go."

"Was that the paperwork calling?"

Booth shakes his head distractedly, his mind already on the case he's currently working. "Local PD just picked up my lead suspect. I got to go get him for questioning."

"Shrimp," Hank stands, concern over the eagerness in his grandson. Booth halts on his way out to face his grandfather. "Don't let your personal worries make you careless."

"I never do Pops," he says solemnly, giving one last nod and then leaving.

* * *

><p>A weary mother, golden yellow curls escaping from the confines of her braid, pushes a stroller into the elevator one handed, the other holding up her young daughter. She presses for her floor, holding in the relief of the long day ending until she is surrounded by the familiarity of her home.<p>

"Hold the elevator please!" a deep voice filled with tiredness and a touch of annoyance has her automatically reaching out to keep the doors from closing.

A tall man in a black suit enters, a large stack of manila folders in his arms. "Thanks."

"Welcome."

She watches him out of the corner of her eye, admiring his impressive build perfectly showcased in that suit. His very attractive jaw is tense and his eyes edged with frustration call to the very primal female inside of her. She has to force her eyes away and mentally remind herself that she's happily married. She breathes in deeply through her nose and almost instantly makes a face at the smell. She again peeks at the handsome man but with a much different expression.

"Eww," the little girl cries, covering her face dramatically as only children can. "Yucky, Mommy."

The elevator opens allowing the mother and daughter to hastily exit. As soon as the doors slide close Booth half growls, tugging his smell infested suit with a free hand. At his floor he strides quickly into his apartment and straight to the bedroom where he discards the files and his clothes before gratefully jumping into the shower to scrub off the stink he absorbed from his suspect.

Its twenty minutes later that he reemerges into the living room. water drops still rolling down his neck from his hair. He looks around the home he's shared for five years, wondering how such a small space could feel so enormously empty. His laptop sits on its shelf in the corner, looking lonely without Brennan's on the shelf above.

He gets it, looking at the time as he turns it on, and mentally calculates the time difference. If he sends it now she'll hopefully read it before she goes to bed. If not, then first thing in the morning. He logs in to his email and again is stuck with the same dilemma from earlier. What to say. He puts his fingers on the home keys, closing his eyes and just lets the words flow in his usual click-click typing style.

He asks about her flight and not so subtly about Stires. He cautions again about where she is, about being careful how far she strays from camp and urges her to follow the chart Hodgins had given her. He tells her about solving his latest case, boasting about his interrogation skills and griping about the horrible smell that had filled the room.

**Tuna Bones, the guy stank of tuna! How does that even happen? It took everything I had to keep a straight face. And I swear, I don't think I can eat seafood ever again! I may have to throw out that suit; the smell won't ever leave. Took the longest shower to scrub it out. Missed you in there. ;-)**

**To be honest, I just plain miss you, Bones. I know you're rolling your gorgeous eyes cause it's hasn't even been a day but it's the truth. I miss you.**

**I got a huge stack of paperwork to fill out and no fiancée to do it for me (not that you ever do anyway) so I better go. I'll write you tomorrow.**

**Be safe, babe.**

**I love you.**

**Booth**

He sends it off before he can over think it. With a deep sigh full of more emotion that he expressed in his email he closes the lid, leaning on his knees. He runs his head through his damp hair, wiping the excess water off on his sweat pants. With a grunt he rises, gathering his files and his pen, placing them on the coffee table. Turning on the TV to a random sports channel he wanders to the kitchen, grabbing some chips and opening the fridge for a beer. But unfortunately the only alcoholic beverage is the Moroccan beer that Brennan is fond of and he refuses to drink it no matter how low he is.

"Damn it."

He closes the fridge just as there is brisk knocking on the door. He doesn't look before opening, which perhaps he should have as he is instantly pushed aside by a very determined artist, followed by Hodgins and Zack.

"I've decided we're not going to let you get away that easy," Angela declares resolutely, hands on hips, standing next to his couch.

"Ange, I appreciate this," he says as, since they're all inside anyway, Booth closes the door. "But I told you I got a mountain of paperwork to fill out-"

"We've got pizza and beer," she interrupts, smiling widely. "Give up, Studly. Just think of it as a free meal."

Apparently assuming she's having the last word Angela strides into the kitchen to get plates.

"Angela can be extremely forceful," Zack comments quietly, holding two large pizza boxes in his hands, standing just inside the entryway.

"Trust me, dude, just go with it," Hodgins grins, setting the beer on the coffee table.

"Do I have a choice? Get in there," Booth grumbles in exasperation to Zack, pushing him by the shoulder. "At least you brought beer."

"So what are we watching?" Angela says pleasantly, bringing plates and napkins.

"Sports," Booth says forcefully, grabbing the remote out of Hodgins' reach, the scientist holding his hands up in surrender.

The group settles in, Booth and his paperwork on the couch, Ange on the armchair and the guys on the floor near her. Soon the room is filled with Hodgins and Angela's explanations to a poor puzzled Zack and the aroma of fresh pizza. Though part of him is annoyed at the intrusion, Booth can't stop himself from looking up briefly from his work to smile gratefully that his family is there.


	14. Chapter 13

**Life has kept me busy. Was on baby watch for the past two weeks, driving the baby mama to and from the hospital and/or baby sitting the other two girls. But two days ago it happened: I have a nephew! And he is so cute! And that means that in my house there is a two year old, a one year old and a newborn...fun lol**

**But enough about that, here is the next chapter. Thanks to musicnlyrics for being my beta. **

**Chapter 13**

"Temperance, break time."

Brennan looks up from her spot kneeling in the dirt, face shaded from the sun by the brim of her hat. She hesitates, glancing back down at the dig site, brows creased as she debates between her drive to continue working and her body's need for rest and replenishment. The voice of common sense in her head, which in this case sounds suspiciously like Booth, tells her to take the break. She climbs out, swiping her sweaty brow with her arm, the last to head over to the tarp erected for shade.

She gets a bottle of blissfully cool water for herself and settles on a small stool. She drinks deeply, briefly imagining dumping the water over her shoulders which are already a shade or two darker than when she left DC three weeks before. Three weeks that she has found astonishingly long, made even worse by the lack of discoveries of any kind. She glances at the faces around her, all with the same expression of disappointment that this section seems to be as empty of anthropological significance as the others they have looked at so far. Someone was either misinformed or made a wrong assumption. Most likely Stires, she muses, drinking her water again.

She feels another wave of dissatisfaction surge through her followed by the familiar tug of homesickness. From the moment she had laid a foot on the soil of this country so different than her own she has felt like going back. When she sleeps on the tiny cot in her surprisingly single tent, the only way she can succumb to slumber is to imagine the feel of strong arms around her; to force herself to hear the rhythmic beating of the heart that has soothed her for years. Entering the first dig site has dispelled her unrest but after a few days of nothing being found it returned and has only multiplied since then.

The professional side of her has been appalled by this tugging and has rebelled against it, pushing herself harder than strictly necessary and effects have been felt. Even as she sits now she can feel her sore muscles protesting. Even her breasts feel tender, impeding her sleep for the past two days. And her dizzy spells, sporadic as they are, have continued despite her intake of extra water. Frowning, Brennan considers talking to the on site doctor the next time it happens, just to be safe. Booth would definitely order her to if he were privy to that information. Which of course, he isn't, Brennan having already reached her tolerance limit of the protectiveness her fiancé expels from every word in his emails.

She smiles softly, her eyes unfocusing, rethinking over the most recent communication from home, an actual paper letter this time. The whole group had contributed to it, each writing a paragraph or so, their voices clear in her head as she read. Zack, sweetly hesitant and even more clueless than she ever was, inquiring about the life on a dig and truly concerned about her well being. She feels bad that so far she has had nothing academically interesting to share with her young friend. Then Hodgins' part, filled with his conspiracy theories. Whether he meant them to or not, she couldn't help but laugh.

Two full pages bore the beautiful swirling handwriting of her best friend. Almost every day that had passed was recorded down, each comment more suggestive than the last in a way that was pure Angela. Drawings, both in color and just plain ink, were included to depict everyday life back in DC, each pinned to the walls of her tent in their own sections. Angela's baby bump's progression as predicted by the artist's slightly tweaked computer software. The fierce battles for King of the Lab and their usually messy results, including a rather fanciful image of Hodgins standing atop a large microscope with a very large crown atop his curly head; obviously he is currently winning. Then lastly there was the amusingly, yet appropriately named, Sexy G-man collection; by far Brennan's favorite ones though Booth seemed distressed by the details when he spoke of them in his writings to her.

Unaware she sighs, her smile falling away every so slightly. Booth's emails have come daily, whether or not she responded the day before or not. Sometimes they're questions for her; a thirst to know what her existence away is like. Occasionally they have been a rundown of his day, his frustration or relief over a case or more specifically his relief over the unsuccessful appeal of a convicted murderer; an obvious vent of his emotions to the one person he has every truly shared his feelings with. A playful tone is always present, his smirk all but popping out of the words…until this most recent letter. She has no idea what events prompted his emotional outpouring but the longing that had seeped from every stroke clutched at her heart. She wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around him, to kiss him and make him forget the melancholy that will possibly never leave him.

"That's gorgeous."

Brennan lifts her head, blinking rapidly to refocus her gaze. The pleasantly southern voice came from in front of her, from a very friendly woman in her late thirties named Lindsay Hicks. They have spoken together twice before in a vaguely polite manner. Confused by the comment Brennan follows the other woman's eyes down to find her hand in front of her. Unknowingly the fingers on her left hand had dug out the necklace she wears everyday to fiddle with her engagement ring, which is currently residing on her left ring finger. It's quickly becoming a habit of hers when she has down time.

"Married?" Lindsey breaks into her thoughts again, a smile clear both in her voice and on her face.

"Engaged," Brennan corrects, finishing her water.

"Your fiancé has wonderful taste."

"Yes. He's has always had an aptitude for choosing jewelry for me," she says with a private smile, her fingers unconsciously going to her wrist though she isn't wearing her charm bracelet. Maybe it's because she was thinking about him so strongly just moments before, but the words are out before she thinks about them. "We've been together since I was eighteen, five years. He's a very wonderful man. He's an agent for the FBI in Washington DC."

"You have a fiancé?" a younger woman voices from the left, sounding surprised. "Didn't you come here with Stires?"

"As his _student_, yes," Brennan frowns, becoming angry as the girl lifts a brow skeptically. She opens her mouth to clear away any assumptions about her relationship with her professor but the man himself stands up at the other end of the tarp.

"Okay everyone, we got a few hours of work left," he says just loudly enough to be heard by the entire group.

"This sections a bust," the same girl complains, standing slower than the rest. "There's nothing here. We should move on."

"We're not done yet," Stires says firmly, temper edging just behind his eyes. "We have to be sure before we move on, Miss Sims. Let's go."

"Don't listen to what anyone says, Temperance," Lindsey says as they walk together back to the dig site. "You know your heart. What's your business is your business. You should tuck your ring back in though, keep it clean from all this dust."

"Thank you," Brennan says as she does so distractedly, still unnerved by the accusation that she is involved in something inappropriate.

She glances over at Stires, only to find him looking back at her. Possibly her perception is colored by the conversation she just had but it almost feels as if his look is more of a leer and she suddenly feels uncomfortable in her tank top. He smirks and steps forward to obviously walk to her but another student calls him over. Grateful, Brennan places her sunglasses on over eyes and digs out her iPod from her pocket. Rockin Robin soon blocks out the sounds of the others working around her as she bends down to continue in what she knows is a futile attempt at historical discovery.

* * *

><p>"Come on, come on," Booth grits out between his teeth, gripping the steering wheel impatiently. He looks at the time, slapping the wheel in irritation. "All week, all <em>fucking <em>week, green lights to and from work. But today, today I get reds. Perfect."

Miraculously the light turns and the front line cars, seeming to sense the anger oozing from the large SUV, move forward with hardly any hesitation. But even so the light turns yellow much too soon. Booth glares at the car in front of him, mentally cursing them to keep moving.

"Thank you," he expels with a large puff of air, following behind the smaller vehicle just shy of running the red.

Driving a little wildly, he reaches his apartment building, moving from car to entrance in record time. He bypasses the elevator, having no patience left to wait, instead heading for the stairs. Feet skipping every other step, he thinks again over the short email message he had received from Brennan only two hours before, the cause of his traffic impatience.

**Booth,**

**I was just notified that I am allotted a half-hour access to a video link. My time starts at 6:15 DC time. I am looking forward to seeing your smile.**

**Love,**

**Bones**

A peek at his watch informs him that he has only minutes left. He again curses the hell of DC traffic, pulling his keys out of his pocket to make his entry time just a few seconds earlier. The second he reaches his floor it takes his long legs only moments of jogging to reach his door. His shoes, jacket and tie are quickly discarded and tossed recklessly around the room as he pulls out his laptop. He bounces on the couch as he waits for the machine to load up and log in. Ping! A small window pops up, asking permission to start the video connection and he eagerly accepts. He leans on his knees, face resting in one hand as he waits for the connection with Brennan.

The second he had read that email his heart had beat faster in anticipation; it almost embarrassed him how excited he got just at the prospect of talking to his Bones. But right on the heels of that happy excitement was worry though he didn't examine it enough to truly know why he should feel worried. Well, yes, it might have to do with the doubt still residing inside his head that she might not want to get married when she gets back, that she might like that part of her job so much she will forever be off in different countries…without him. And sure, it could be that he's embarrassed and a little guilty about just how blatant he was about wanting her home. It would be more than he could bear if she came home early and was completely miserable cause he was too needy to handle it. He rolls his eyes; yeah, he has nothing to be worried about.

The screen turns black for a second before a pair of blue-gray eyes fills it, the eyebrows bent in an obvious frown. Booth sits up straight, lifting the lid of the laptop a little higher.

"Booth?" her voice floats out of the speakers, her eyes filling with happiness on the screen and making him grin.

"Who else?" he chuckles. "Bones, zoom out, baby."

The dark brows bend again in confusion. "Why?"

"As much as I love your eyes, I really want to see your whole face."

"Oh! Um." A brief pause, then more of her features are revealed until not only can he see her face, but also her shoulders and a glimpse of the tent she is in. "Is that better?"

"Perfect," he replies softly, soaking up the crooked smile he loves so much. "Hi, Bones."

"Hi."

They gaze at each other for a moment, lost in the connection they share even on different continents. Booth trails his eyes down, past her cute nose and naturally pink lips, down to her elegant neck where he can just see the glint of the silver chain he had put over her head. Some of his fear of her changing her mind fades, for surely she wouldn't continue to wear a token from a religion she doesn't believe in if she didn't love him enough care how important it was to him.

Brennan's own gaze has also wandered from the chocolate comfort of his eyes. Just in the short time she has looked at him her libido has sprung to life. Looking at him she sees hair just waiting for her fingers to tangle and pull. Lips begging to be bitten and a mouth demanding to be explored and savored. Being the end of the day his cheeks are slightly stubbled, just enough that she knows the sound it would make if she scraped her hand over them. The top two buttons of his shirt are undone, revealing nothing but two inches of smooth, tanned skin. But her memory is excellent and her imagination on level with her genius when it is applied so it takes hardly any effort at all for her hands to be swamped with the sensation of his hard muscles, for her mouth to be filled with his taste.

"Wow," Booth's voice crashes through her libidinous thoughts.

"What?"

"You're even more beautiful than I remember."

"It's been three weeks, Booth, I look the same," she cocks an eyebrow, resting on her arms on the small table in front of her. "It is absence, however, that makes the heart grow fonder."

"No," he says softly, the low timbre of his voice making her melt like butter. "You're just beautiful."

"I miss you," the quite, heartfelt statement escapes her without thought. Alarmed at the water suddenly filling her eyes, Brennan sits back, wiping away the tears as they fall down her face. "This is a ridiculous overreaction. I'm sorry."

"Oh, Bones, it's okay," Booth leans even closer to the laptop, wanting nothing more than to hold her in his arms. "It's not ridiculous, baby, I-"

Booth shifts back, his face and voice instantly going flat as his heart wrenches for a completely different reason than just a few seconds before.

"Did you lose your ring, Bones?"

"Of course not." Brennan wipes at her still falling tears when she realizes what he is seeing, or rather not seeing, on her hand. "Booth-"

"Forget it, Bones. It, uh, it's not a big deal." Brennan watches him shift, looking down and either playing with his poker chip or tapping his fingers. Unable to control herself she cries more, able to hear the hurt in his voice no matter how much he is trying to convince both of them that it doesn't matter. "I know how you feel. About me, I mean. And about marriage and rings, and what they're symbols for. You don't need them, I get it."

"No I don't. Because I do love you, though scientifically it doesn't make any sense," frustrated over having no control over her tears, Brennan wipes at her face fiercely. "Booth I-"

"It's okay, Bones. I-"

"Look." She lifts her necklace, desperate to make him understand, making sure the gleaming ring is visible to him. "I want to wear this symbol every day. Even if it's only hanging from my neck. Which, by the way, is to keep it from being ruined. It's an irrational desire but, love isn't rational, right?"

"Right," Booth ducks his head again, overwhelmed with guilt at how betrayed he had felt over not seeing her wearing his ring. She had just said she missed him, hadn't she? Right before bursting into uncharacteristic tears. "I'm sorry, Bones. I'm an ass. God, baby, please stop crying. You're killing me here."

"I'm trying," she wipes at her face again, relieved to find the tears slowing. "And watching someone cry isn't physically detrimental. Therefore it can't kill you."

"You're not sitting where I am."

"Obviously," Brennan frowns apparently confused enough to completely finish spilling tears.

Booth chuckles, more in relief at her more 'Bones-like' reaction than at finding it actually funny. He quickly sobers again however. "I really am sorry, Bones. I didn't think; of course you wouldn't wear it all the time and get it dirty. It's just…I know how much you like looking at ancient bones. The older and dryer, the better, right?"

He's relived when she answers his smile with her own. "It's your passion, it makes your face light up. And…sometimes I get a little, um…worried that, you might start thinking about giving up DC life for, you know third world countries. To live your passion all day, everyday."

"The only way I would ever consider giving up modern living for work is if you'd come with me. But you love your job and I will never ask you to give up something you love." Brennan smiles slightly, trying to lighten the mood the best way she can think of right now. "Besides, my favorite bones aren't old or dry. As you should know."

Booth's eyes pop open but before he can really react there are a brief knock to his door before it is swung open. His training has him up in a split second, hand on his gun, before he recognizes just who the invaders are: two squabbling squints and their keeper. Of course they would pick this day for their little support group dinner.

"That is not a rational course of action," Zack frowns, following Hodgins and Angela into the apartment. "Track A makes the most sense."

"Sure. But why be obvious when you can be devious?" Jack smiles mischievously, pizza boxes balanced on one hand, a half eaten slice in the other. "Hey Booth, shouldn't a cop know better than to leave their door unlocked?"

"Hey, Studly," Angela grins impishly, hands on hips and eyebrows waggling. "Did we interrupt something?"

"Knocking is usually followed by _waiting _for the door to open," Booth glares at the trio. "That way the person has the chance to lock the door and pretend not to be home."

"Is that Angela?" Brennan questions, shifting in her chair in a furtive attempt to see more at the other end of the computer connection.

"Bren?" Angela, with a mouth open smile, moves over to view the screen, squealing at her best friend's face. "Sweetie! Oh my gosh, look how tan you are, you've got a glow! You're gorgeous!"

"Thanks, Ange," Brennan smiles; though her eyes flick back over to Booth as he sits again.

"Hey, future Dr. B," Hodgins smiles, popping his face next to his wife's, Zack squeezing between him and Booth. "Watch it Zack!"

"Hello, Brennan," the young man says, ignoring the Hodgins. "Have you found any ancient remains?"

"Not yet."

"Sweetie, have you been crying?" Angela asks more in surprise than concern, automatically assuming the cause was seeing Booth.

"No, of course not," Brennan automatically denies, unconsciously sweeping her hand over her face again.

The tent opens to her right and Lindsey sticks her head inside, saying, "Sorry Temperance, but we have a meeting."

"What about?" Brennan asks perplexed.

"Word is Stires got an earful from the money suppliers about the lack of discoveries so far. So to make back some money we're being loaned out to the locals tomorrow to identify some bodies. I don't how many of us are going, though."

"I'll be right there."

"Can they do that?" Booth asks protectively, spinning his laptop to face him.

"It would seem so," she says, just irritated and unhappy about it as her fiancé. She looks at him dejectedly. "I have to go. I'm sorry."

Ignoring the others stepping into the kitchen to give some privacy, Booth kneels down, his face intense. "I need you to push back your knee jerk independent ranting. If you're going on this side thing, the first chance you get you email me all the information."

"I can't promise that," she protests. "What if it's confidential?"

"Bones, you're in Guatemala. You don't know what you're going to find there. Just, keep me informed. Okay?"

"I'll tell you what I can. I might not be going anyway, Booth, in which case all of this will be unnecessary."

Yeah, right, he thinks to himself.

"Have you heard from Russ?"

Booth hesitates; not sure if now is the time to tell her that her brother is in prison for stealing cars. Telling her might hurt her and cloud her thoughts and he definitely doesn't want her distracted. But not telling her now could end up biting him in the ass. He is saved from answering in a way that he despises.

"Tempe," Stires says, stepping into the tent. "Sorry to interrupt, but it's a very important meeting."

Brennan looks at Booth, smiling her apology. "I love you."

"Love you too. Bones. Email me."

She nods before clicking to end the connection. She rises, clearing her throat and adjusting her shirt as she follows Stires out of the tent. She stiffens when his arm, feeling sticky and uncomfortably warm, settles around her shoulders.

"Are you okay, Tempe?" he says in a sympathetic voice, that for some reason grates on her nerves.

"Yes, of course." Brennan steps away, folding her arms across her chest. Pain shoots across her breasts at the motion, making her wince. Before she can analyze it, Stires' semi-patronizing voice cuts through.

"He's just a cop, Tempe. He can't understand what it's like here. He's probably never been away from the East Coast."

"Are you talking about Booth?" she says angrily, no longer walking, stopping just feet from the meeting tent.

Stires raises his eyebrows. "I just assumed-"

"You don't know Booth. Don't _assume _that any aspect of my relationship with Booth is any of your business," Brennan keeps her voice low but her anger is still vibrating through every syllable. "You and I share a love of science. We're not close friends, so don't get carried away."

She starts to turn but spins around again, her voice and gaze so fierce it has Stires taking a step back.

"And don't ever call Booth just a cop again. He is an ex-Army Ranger that has been to almost every continent and he is an agent with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. He's not _just _anything."

With that, she leaves Stires behind her, striding into the tent.

**Please tell me what you think. **


	15. Chapter 14

**First I have to say sorry. Being an adult sucks and tends to steal the muse.**

**Second I have to say Thank You. Thank you to everyone reading this now. Thank you to everyone who has been reading this. Thank you especially to everyone who has reviewed. Those reviews and PM's were constant motivators to not wallow in the writer's block frustration. Thank you.**

**Harper83, Thanks for helping out, giving me reassurance. Musicnlyrics, my awesome beta, thanks for being my awesome beta :-P**

**Chapter 14**

Unaware that he is being defended in another country, Booth sits in front of the black screen, eyes narrowed as every instinct he has tells him to fly down to Guatemala and drag Brennan home. He curses Stires with a mental string of colorful words, blaming the bastard for putting her in the possible line of danger.

Behind him, Hodgins steps cautiously into the room. "You okay, man?"

Booth closes the laptop with a snap, speaking curtly. "Yeah. Fine."

"Booth man, I'm sorry. We wouldn't have come over if we had known that you and Brennan wer-…what?" Hodgins stops and suspiciously narrows his eyes, unnerved by Booth's now calculating face.

"Hodgins…how much pull do you have in South America?"

Hodgins looks bewildered. "Me? South America?"

"Yeah. You. The Cantilever Group, the great Hodgins Empire, whatever you call it." Booth steps forward to continue but the sound of Angela's distinctive footsteps drawing close stalls him. He gives Hodgins a quick warning look of silence before bending to pick up his haphazardly discarded shoes and clothing.

"Bren already sign off?" Angela sounds disappointed, moving to stand close to her husband, tendrils of hair falling out of her loose ponytail. "I wanted to talk to talk to her."

"Yeah, well, so did I," frustration has Booth's voice snapping, his movements sharp as he puts away the lap top. Unable to stop his venting, he laughs humorously. "You know, you have _perfect _timing, Angela."

"Hey!" she places her hands on her hips in indignation. "It's not my fault that she got dragged off to a meeting and you know it. So don't go using that tone on me, bucko."

"Maybe he's upset because he made Brennan cry," Zack adds his opinion, standing in the kitchen entryway, an icy glass of water and a plate of half eaten pizza in his hands.

The slight shame Booth had felt at Angela's words quickly transform back into anger as he turns towards Zack, his entire face hardening into the mask he uses against suspects.

"Excuse me, what?" the words spoken with intensity have Zack taking an automatic step back into he kitchen. "What did you say?"

The side duties that Brennan most likely will be doing for the Guatemalan government plus Booth's inquiry about his connections in South America come together in Hodgins' mind. Hundred of conspiracy possibilities speed through his thoughts and sure that the worse have already occurred to Booth, Hodgins steps forward to hopefully calm the agitated agent. "Hey, Booth, relax man."

Booth's accusatory look has him gesturing exasperatedly towards the younger man worriedly hovering in the kitchen. "Come on, he's…Zack. Hitting him for saying stupid things would be like-like kicking a three-legged puppy with a memory loss problem."

"Hey," Zack protests with a frown, still staying a safe distance from the FBI agent.

Booth shakes his head silently, staring off into the darkness through the living room window. Brennan's crying face flashes before him, the residue of guilt and helplessness still coating his heart, both fighting with worry for dominance. He is still bewildered by her strange reaction, his Bones never cries like that. Something is going on with her and that…unsteadiness combined with the mission she will be going on away from the main camp has his worry skyrocketing to almost panic. He's not handling it well and he knows he shouldn't be taking it out on the squints.

"Right, guys, I appreciate you coming but I'm…" he releases a huge sigh and turns away, morosely walking to his bedroom. "I'm not in the mood for this, alright."

He has barely sat down on the bed when the door is opened again and an agitated Angela enters, firmly closing the door behind her.

"Angela," he begins in a warning tone, standing.

"Do we have to keep going through this every time?" She crosses her arms, her brows lifted in an imitation of boredom. "I'm going to forgive your little attitude right now-"

"Thanks, appreciate it," he replies sarcastically before he can stop himself, releasing the buttons on the cuffs of his shirt and walking to the closet.

"Because I know you're worked up about Bren," she continues, ignoring his comment. "You need some time to find your center, that's fine. Don't take too long though, or the pizza will get cold, or eaten. Whichever comes first. You don't have to talk to us, but we care about you, despite your jerky moments. So, we're staying."

"Staying?" With a near growl of irritation and disbelief, Booth steps out of the closet, tugging a loose shirt over his head. He glowers at Angela, doing his best to not yell as all of the emotions swirling inside him threaten to explode out. "I get that you're worried about me, unnecessarily may I add. But I'm a grown man. I don't need a squint gathering in my house every freaking Friday!"

"Maybe _I _do!" as stunned as Booth at the sudden tears thickening her voice; Angela covers her mouth with her hand, closing her eyes.

"Damn it," Booth says without heat, feeling like the lowest scum for making another woman he cares for cry. Not knowing what else to do, he walks over to take her in his arms. "I'm sorry. Come on, Ange, I didn't mean it. Okay?"

"Grr, I _hate _crying!" she sighs with a tearful shudder, stepping away, wiping her face. "There's just so much…_shit _happening in my body right now, I cant control anything!"

"Um, right," he clears his throat uncomfortably, casting his eyes downward. "Maybe you should talk to-"

"Who? Talk to who?" apparently the tears are over as her eyes blaze with building anger, Booth holding his hands up in bewilderment at her rapidly revolving emotions. "My dad wasn't there when my mom was pregnant so he's no help. You cough and turn away and I swear if Zack or Hodgins compare my baby to a parasite one more time, not even Bren will be able to identify what's left of their bodies.

"Booth, I miss Brennan," her anger seems to deflate in an instant, her body weakly leaning back against the wall. Her sad eyes look into his, all but begging him to understand. " I've known her since we were teens, since before you came around. I love her too. My whole life is changing and being here in her space, with you and the guys…it helps me feel like everything is almost normal."

She breathes out a laugh, rolling her eyes at herself. "I guess I've reached the pathetic crazy woman peak, huh?"

"Hey, come here." Kissing her forehead, Booth pulls her back into a hug. "You're not pathetic, ok?"

"Just crazy?" she sniffs.

"Absolutely," he teases, sending her a charm smile when as she pulls back. She chuckles, her eyes thankfully filled with their usual spark.

"I really am sorry we busted in on you guys," she apologizes sincerely. "Next time we'll call first. Don't worry about tonight, we'll go."

"No, Ange, it's fine. Okay? Just…give me a bit. You guys go ahead and eat. 'Kay?"

As the door clicks shut behind her, Booth turns away, cursing under his breath in frustration. He barely has time to condemn himself as the world's biggest asshole before his door opens again. Hodgins enters; curly hair sticking up as if he had recently ran his fingers through it. Booth's tired expression of sympathy melts away into a glower though he turns his back to the bug man almost instantly in dismissal.

"I want to be alone for a while, alright."

"Yeah, I know, I'll leave right now," Hodgins waves it off. "But-"

"That's funny. You think I'm asking," Booth chuckles softly, shaking his head, eyes just as intense as they were in the in the living room minutes before. His smile slides away, his gaze locked sternly on Hodgins'. "I like you Jack. Most of the time. But I'm telling you, right now? Not the time to mess with me."

"Hey, I'm just trying to help, like _you _all but asked me to less than five minutes ago! Before you decided to play the pouting game," Hodgins replies irritably. Booth snaps to attention, crossing briskly to Hodgins. Jack instantly takes a step back, holding his hands up plaintively. "Whoa, man, it was a joke."

Booth ignores him, instead shutting the door with a crisp click. He grabs Hodgins' arm, pulling him to sit in one of the high backed chairs Brennan had insisted they add to the bedroom. He sits down also, tense arms settled on his thighs. Silence presses in around them as they sit still across from each other. Eventually they both expectantly raise their eyebrows, trying to get the other to start; Booth gestures impatiently.

"Well?"

"Well, what? You have the questions, I'm here to answer them."

Booth closes his eyes, praying for patience. "Okay. Do you, or your company, have any influence in Guatemala?"

"What kind of influence?" Hodgins almost smirks, settling more comfortably in his chair. Booth doesn't have to do more than glare for the scientist to relent. "Cantilever has some economic power there, which of course translates to political influence. Give me a few hours, I'll make some calls, find out all you want to know about Bren's assignment."

"Okay," Booth nods, brows still raised as if still waiting.

Hodgins takes a deep breath, mimicking Booth's pose. "If you're thinking about some kind of mercenaries to get Brennan out of there or to just watch her, I can do that. But, I don't know if I'd trust them. Besides isn't that more your beat?"

"What?"

"You're an FBI agent, you have some power, don't you?"

"Most of the guys still see me as rookie," Booth says bitterly. "I don't have those kind of connections yet."

"What about _your_ Guatemalan connections?"

Booth tilts his head, an impenetrable curtain falling over his eyes. "Excuse me?"

"Come on man, you know. You were a sniper. I'm sure you were in Guatemala at one point, right?" Hodgins' conspiratorial attitude falls away as he shifts apprehensively at Booth's complete stillness. "Okay, forget I said that. What do you want me to do?"

But Booth is lost in his thoughts, memories he previously chose to ignore before triggered into prominence by Hodgins' comment. He looks away, his gaze unfocused and growing dark as he thinks, unknowingly shifting into his soldier persona. Hodgins watches intrigued and a little frightened of this darker version of his friend, as Booth's body language takes on the characteristics of a tightly wound, deadly viper, waiting to strike; he knew it existed but to see it is a completely different experience.

Booth breaks out of his thoughts suddenly. His eyes are still dark but his muscles have loosened enough for Hodgins to breathe a little easier.

"Get me the information, Jack. I may need you to front me some cash, but I'll handle the rest."

"Ok," Hodgins hesitates to rise, struggling to hold back his burning question. But he is a scientist down to his core and a true conspiracist; his curiosity will not be stifled. "What, um, what took you to Guatemala?"

The silence surrounds them for only a moment, but it is enough for Hodgins to fear he might regret hearing the answer.

"I went down to shoot somebody through the heart from 1500 feet." Booth looks up, some dark unidentifiable emotion living just behind his dark eyes, his voice whisper soft. "Don't ask Jack."

Hodgins nods awkwardly, rising to leave the room but he hesitates, his mind whirling to find a comforting comment adequate enough for his friend. But he can't find one that doesn't sound insincere or patronizing and if even he did he somehow knows that Booth wouldn't hear it right now. So instead he gives what will be accepted, what he absolutely can't screw up: he silently steps out.

Poor Booth sits slumped in the deep coffee colored chair, his thoughts as dark as the chair he sits in. There are risks involved if he tries to make contact, possible consequences that could be career sabotage if not worse, if he is found out. A vision of the last true smile he had seen from Brennan, her mesmerizing eyes sparkling with happiness, passes before his mind's eyes. She is more than worth the risk, he decides, as long as nothing happens to the most important person in his life. First thing in the morning he'll start the process to track down the man he knows as Coralilo.

* * *

><p><em>Finally the doors are locked, the large room is empty and all the lights off save for one in the club office. In one brisk movement, she has the file cabinet closed, grateful for the end of the very long day. The shuffle of dragging footsteps have her turning around, warmth rising up from her belly at the sight of her handsome, yet unmistakably extremely tired, husband.<em>

"_You know, I think you're right," he says as he enters, rotating his head in an obvious attempt to relieve stress in his neck and tugging at his tie._

" _Here, let me," she walks over to him, smiling up at him as she releases his throat from its silk confines. "I'm going to need you to be more specific as I'm usually right in our debates."_

"_Humph, yeah right," he grunts his denial, however she can feel his smirk as their lips meet in a tender, sleepy kiss. "Anyway, about the club, you know, maybe we should sell out."_

"_We can't sell the club. Your brother might need a job," she reminds him, moving away to step out of her painful heels. With a deep sigh, he sinks into the plush seat across from the desk._

"_Great."_

_Hands sliding on his wide shoulders, she leans down to bestow a kiss on his lips, settling on his lap in one fluid motion. "Plus, I have a confession."_

_His strong arms comfortably surround her, his melted chocolate eyes looking up at her contently. "What?"_

"_Well, you know that glass of wine we share every night?" she waits for his nod, her fingers playing with the skin revealed by his slightly unbuttoned shirt. "I have to stop that." _

"_Come on, Bren," he teases. " Just because you have a glass of wine every night with your husband, doesn't mean you're an alcoholic."_

"_That's not why." she watches, waiting until the realization overcomes his puzzlement and can't help but chuckle at the pure joy on his face; the same joy surging through her._

"_No way! Yeah?" Not waiting for her verbal response, he kisses her deeply, filled with a sweet tenderness that neither has ever known, one hand reverently settling over her lower stomach. "You're pregnant? There's a little baby boy, huh?"_

"_Or girl," she corrects him with a smile, leaning her forehead against his. "Congratulations, Seel. You're a daddy."_

Brennan's eyes jerk open, breath hissing through her teeth in pain. "Such a weird dream."

She rolls over, one arm covering her tender breasts as she sits up. She ignores her tousled hair as she frowns into the dark, going over the bizarre dream. It was utter ridiculousness, she and Booth owning a nightclub, thought it hasn't been the craziest dream recently. Why only two nights before she had dreamt she and Booth were circus performers, throwing knives and walking on high wires above a roaring crowd; completely absurd.

With a sigh she rises from her bed, turning on the minuscule lamp, brushing her lengthy bangs out of her eyes irritably, remnants of her anger at Stires still residing over her like a fog. Now far too awake to attempt sleep, she grabs one of the few textbooks she brought with her and settles crossed legged on her bed. She looks over the information that's mostly already lodged within her lightning fast mind, skimming over the printed words and analyzing the bones in each picture.

With a wince Brennan adjusts her snug tank top over her sensitive breasts that have kept her from those loony dreams most nights. She frowns down at her chest worry tickling the back of her throat. She has experienced slightly sore breasts prior to her period before and assumed that these occurrences now were again a sign of her impending menstruation. When her menstrual date passed she just assumed her hormone were unbalanced from traveling and stopping her birth control pills as she had forgotten to get it refilled before leaving. She has been too distracted by the dig and thoughts of Booth to give much thought to her cycle. However now she has to worry if something is wrong with her, thoughts of Lizzie all but shouting out at her.

"Doctor first thing tomorrow. No point speculating until there is conclusive data," she murmurs to herself, forcing herself to concentrate on her book. It takes very little time to become reabsorbed, whispers escaping her unknowingly as she identifies each telling mark on the bones in the pictures.

"Sacrum is…female. Fusion indicates age no higher than…sixteen. Pelvis shows signs of preg-"

Brennan's back snaps straight, her gaze straight ahead, her wide eyes blind to everything in front of them. Her world is spinning, an almost nauseous tilt stealing her breath. With shaking hands she closes the book, forcing air to slowly through her lungs. Pregnant? Could she be pregnant? More important still, does she want to be pregnant? Pregnant _now_? Whirling thoughts and emotions too strong to fully analyze fill her almost to the breaking point; panic trying to fight it's way forward.

With graceless movement, Brennan stumbles from her cot to pace the length of the small tent like a caged tiger. Feeling the air clogging in her lungs, she orders herself to slow her breathing, her pacing becoming more regimented as she struggles for calm. After five minutes she is unsatisfied with the results but at least her stomach feels settled. After a few more slow breaths she feels confident enough to attempt logical and rational thought. She goes over all the symptoms she has been experiencing. Missed period, sore breasts, fatigue, and dizziness. She hasn't had any nausea, which is a common pregnancy symptom but she knows that it is possible she may one of the few who don't experience that.

"Why not?" she says wryly to herself, adopting the tone she has often heard from Booth. "I'm part of the two percent that got pregnant on birth control."

That stops all rational thought, true realization washing over her like a wave. For an instant she flashes back to that almost pregnancy years before, of the fear. But as soon as that same fear resurfaces, an overwhelming rush of love, longing, and wonder erases it. She rests her hand on her stomach, irrationally imagining the sensation of new life beating away.

"A baby," she says quietly, unconsciously mirroring her reaction from years before. Only now, instead of trepidation, her voice is filled with euphoria she has never felt before. "Booth's baby."

Unaware of the tears softly trailing down her smiling cheeks, she lunges under the bed for her shoes, intending to run to the computer tent to immediately send an email to her fiancée. Untied laces carelessly laying on the side, clad only in thin pajama pants and her tank top, Brennan takes two strides into the dark outside of her tent before her brain clicks on again. She looks up at the brightly glowing moon; it's past midnight for sure. Even if she could get onto the computer, which is assuredly against the rules at this time, Booth would be asleep. Unbidden, her dream pops up. Oh not the silly club owners part, but of Booth's grin, that light in his eyes as she tells him that he will be a father. That's a look she very much wishes to see first hand.

With a nod, she turns around and strides back into her tent with same amount of decisiveness that she had when she came out of it. Sleep is absolutely a lost cause, so she just grabs her notebook, turns to a fresh page and starts to list the steps she needs to take now that she has made this discovery. First, of course, is the site doctor, which might take care of having to tell anyone else on the dig as gossip spreads fast. Next is informing the appropriate persons that she shall be leaving the obviously pointless dig. She pauses with a frown, remembering the special assignment tomorrow.

"Go home after." Hearing her own voice she rolls her eyes, hoping that the self talking isn't a last symptom of pregnancy.

She spends the next few hours thinking, planning she tells herself, though her thoughts are more akin to dreaming. The early dawn light finds her lying on her back; head tilted towards her stomach, an awed smile ghosted on her lips. Fully aware of how foolish it might look and yet uncaring, she trails her fingers over where she is sure her child resides. She smiles so brightly that if anyone had been looking they would have been captivated. Her child.

**Thoughts? Yes I know that everyone saw the pregnancy coming, but it's a good thing right? I'm thinking I may take this in a slightly different direction then originally planned. But we'll see, depends on what all you guys think**


	16. REAL Chapter 15

**Ok, thank you to everyone who reviewed my last posted chapter and for everyone who reviewed my AN. You guys are so great, I will try to post more regularly. I have a little note here from my beta that she wanted me to put on this.**

_**Hello lovely readers. :) It's the Beta here. I just wanted to apologize - I've had this on my desktop for a few days, and I haven't had a chance to do anything with it until today. Thanks for reading, and don't forget to leave the brilliant author a little love in the form of a review. :Dg**_

_**musicnlyrics**_

**Now I got to say that I actually was going to post this earlier today but got distracted by my brother's insisting they take me out for dinner and a movie. But I said I would post on the 24th, and here on the wonderful West Coast it still is...for another fifty minutes lol. So enjoy, and let me know what you think :-)**

**Chapter 15**

"Yes, right away."

Angela sighs, refusing to open her eyes even though she is now awake. She snuggles comfortably in Booth and Brennan's bed, mentally thanking Booth for being a gentleman. He may not have wanted them there, but he still insisted she take the bed. Of course he slept on the couch, forcing Hodgins and Zack onto the floor. He was glad for the distraction she knows, even if it came in the form of barking semi-playful insults at the other men.

"Call me back at this number as soon as you have that report."

A dark brow lifts as she tunes into her husband's voice, a little more authoritative than what she usually hears from the bug man. She assumes from the silence that he must have ended his call and she starts to slide back into slumber. The bedroom door opens slowly, quiet footsteps coming closer. The bed dips slightly and she smiles as her nostrils are filled with the familiar smell of Hodgins' cologne.

"Good morning, my little _Scelionidae," _he whispers softly, head level with Angela's stomach.

"A part of me wishes I knew what that meant," Angela says in a sleepy husky voice. "The other part knows better than to ask."

Chuckling, Hodgins kisses the small mound of his child then crawls over to lie next to his wife. "Good morning, sweet knocked up goddess."

"Hmm." She tries to fight the smile but his pecking kisses to her neck defeat her. With a shake of her head she opens her eyes to seek out dazzling blue. "You were using your Cantilever voice."

"Booth wants me to check on something," he shrugs off, propping his head with one hand.

"About Bren?" Her smile falls away, missing her friend again.

"Yeah. Don't worry, I'll keep you in the loop," he kisses her lips. With a childlike smile of eagerness he slides down, until again eye level with her torso. "Alright, lesson time. Today: North American beetles."

Shrugging into his suit jacket, Booth tilts his head as he hears soft laughter. Swearing to throw Hodgins out the window if ANYTHING is going on in there, he walks to his bedroom. The door is open just enough to reveal the couple happily talking to their unborn child. Booth watches them for a long moment before silently walking away.

* * *

><p>"What are you talking about? You can't pull the plug." Self righteous anger and fierce denial of failure vibrates through Stires' body, lighting an unpleasant fire in his eyes while his meticulously shaven face scowls unattractively, like a petulant child. "We've only been here a month!"<p>

"And in that month nothing has been found." The clear disappointment in the dig's funding board chairman's voice has Michael closing his mouth tightly in frustration. "You're a brilliant anthropologist and we trusted your judgement with all the confidence in the world. But the truth of the matter, Professor Stires, is that nothing has been found to even suggest support of your theory.

"The Guatemalan government assignment will close the gap on the expenses we've already wasted," the vice-chairman leans towards the video link, barely attempting to conceal his contempt for the overly arrogant Stires. "As you are on the assignment the rest will be packing up. In deference to your previously high anthropological expertise, we will leave a small team for an additional month. You, however, will not be on that team."

Stires scoffs in insult. "Wait a minute. This is my project!"

"You will do more good here at the university," the chairman overrides him, stacking his papers together in clear dismissal. "We'll see you next week Professor Stires."

The link cuts off, leaving Stires blinking in useless anger and humiliation. He stands there, listening to the sounds of the camp outside the tent. He's heard the talk from them all, when they thought he wasn't listening, about how the complete failure is his fault. And now to have to go out there and prove them right is lowering and debasing. But he has to choice but to accept it and move on. He grabs the four folders of departure duties to be given out and walks out of the tent.

"Jeeps are all packed, Michael," says Robert, an archaeologist and one of the few people who consider Stires a friend. Noticing Stires' scowl, his bleached blond eyebrows scrunch together, his confusion subtracting nothing from the surfer-dude look he strives so hard to achieve. "What's wrong?"

Stires gives him the folders in answer. "Hand these out. The team is ready to go?"

"Everyone but Brennan," Robert motions to the tents behind him, smiling lasciviously. "And how is your star pupil?"

"Frigid as Iceland," Stires says with a trace of bitterness, pride still stinging from Brennan's outburst against him. "And late. Get those folders handed out."

He walks through the huddle of large tents, pushing through his annoyance enough to smile flirtatiously to any single female he passes. He is just heading towards the small personal tents when he spots Brennan coming out of the medical tent. His annoyance kicks up another notch with the worry that she may be sick. Worry not for her personally but that he will have to replace her on the side assignment. As much as he resents it, she is brilliant at what she does. Never one to give up, he changes direction, confidant that he is displaying to right amount of concern.

"Tempe. We're all ready to go. You're not sick are you?"

"No," Brennan says dispassionately, striding towards the jeeps, Stires briskly catching up.

"I have to say, I'm disappointed," he shakes his head. "I didn't expect you to be one to pout about a few innocent comments. I thought you were more mature than that."

She barely glances at him. "I'm know what you've been trying to do, Michael. I have no interest in having sex with you."

"Wow," Stires chuckles softly, mockingly, to cover the sting to his ego. "That's highly inappropriate, Tempe."

"I agree." Brennan stops at the jeep, tossing her bag into the back. She turns to Stires, her voice completely rational. "For health reasons, I am returning to D.C. after we identify these remains."

Anger and insult is bubbling inside his chest, so in reaction his voice becomes more patronizing. "It's not necessary for you to come if you're not feeling well. I'm sure we'll do perfectly fine without you."

"I disagree," Brennan walks around to the spare seat, unaware of the amused smirks of the others around her listening to their conversation. "And I feel perfectly fine. It will be safer for me to go home as I'm pregnant."

Stires hastily steps back as if she were carrying a bomb. "Pregnant?"

"Yes."

With that, Brennan climbs into the jeep. Stires stares at her for a second before the lead jeep honks. Brennan has already dismissed him, busily settling into her seat. Lindsey turns from the front seat, a large smile on her face.

"I think that's the first time anyone has put that man in his place. That was great."

Brennan returns the smile, eyes light with mischief. "Yes it was."

Everyone laughs as the four jeeps rumble into life, jerking forward.

"Congratulations on your baby," Lindsey adds sincerely.

"Thank you." Brennan secures her hat and leans back in her seat, fingers playing with her necklace as she thinks fondly of Booth.

* * *

><p>Agent Sam Reilly strides through the bullpen with fierce confidence of a Federal Agent with twenty-five years experience behind him. His round face is grim; anger blazing from his coal black eyes, though if one knew him well enough they could see concern hovering just under the surface. His gaze focuses on his target, his anger climbing another notch as he watches the young agent brooding blankly instead of filling out the stack of paperwork in front of him.<p>

"Booth," Sam says shortly, barely breaking stride, knowing his summons will be followed.

Booth jolts before rising quickly to follow his mentor, struggling to force his worry for Brennan a little more into the back of his mind. Watching Sam, he's pretty sure he's going to need his complete focus; Sam only charges around like a bad tempered bull when he's pissed about a tough case. Booth raises his eyebrows inquisitively when Sam closes the office door behind them. In the years he's been an agent, this is only the third time he's seen Sam have the door closed with a junior agent inside. And none of the times have ended well for the junior agents.

"Sir?" Booth hopes showing respect will help ease him away from whatever storm might be coming. No luck.

"Cut the 'sir' shit." Sam slams a thin folder on the table and Booth isn't entirely sure he wants to know why. "Want to explain this?"

Instincts starting to hum, Booth dreadfully picks up the folder. Even as he opens it, he knows what it's going to say. Sam watches him, hands on his rounded hips.

"Please tell me this is a mistake." He grits out an oath as he reads the answer in Booth's silence. "Why are you trying to make contact with a Guatemalan hit man, _Agent_ Booth?"

"Is that an official inquiry, sir?" Booth asks stoically, his emotionless eyes looking directly into Sam's.

"You know damn well that it isn't," Sam growls lowly, walking around his desk. "If it was, Cullen would be the one asking. _After _taking your gun and badge. Which is what would have happened if Lisbon hadn't come to me first, you lucky asshole."

Booth relaxes enough to allow his frustration to seep through. "Coralilo is kind of an old…friend. I needed to ask him a favor."

Sam pauses, eyes piercing. "What kind of favor?"

"Goddamn it, you know better than that, Sam," Booth bristles, insulted.

"Do I? This guy has top of the line special ops training. His kill list is longer than my dick! That's only the ones internationally reported before he went rogue from the Guatemalan government. Seven years ago-"

"I know what he did. I was there," Booth says grimly, the undeniable knowledge in his quiet voice slicing through Sam's rampage. The older agent takes a deep calming breath.

"Okay, off the record." He points a finger, voice low and deadly serious. "And no bullshit."

Booth sits slowly, knowing he has no choice, even if it costs him his career. Jaw tight, he tells Sam all about Brennan's dig, about the last minute side assignment and how little details Brennan herself was given the night before.

"She emailed me this morning. All she knew was where they're going at the request of the government. No circumstances, no body count, nothing," fear and frustration is clear in every crisp syllable from Booth. "My gut is all but screaming at me that something isn't right. So I wanted to make sure she was looked after."

From his spot in the chair next to Booth Sam sits back, expression placating. "You have great instincts, Booth, that's what makes you're a good agent. But I don't think you're clearheaded right now, your emotions are too close to the surface. You're overreacting."

"Sam-"

"You love this girl, that's great. You're worried about her, fine. That's natural. But you're letting your feelings interfere with your common sense!"

Booth pushes to his feet; nostrils flaring like an irate stallion. "That's bullshit, Sam."

"Hey," he reaches out with a firm grip, holding Booth in place. "Do you know why romance between partners is damn near forbidden?"

"What the hell does that-?"

"They let their personal feelings lead their actions, take risks for the other instead of doing the job first. Emotions, instincts, is an essential part of the job but there's gotta be a line. You have to keep your feelings in check, to think. Think, Booth!" Sensing his full attention, Sam lets go of his arm, speaking calmly as he can to force some rational thought into his friend. "She's going on an official request from the Guatemalan's. No way we don't know the details about it, down to the last show lace on their soldier escorts."

Booth blinks, having never though of Brennan being escorted and watched by soldiers. "How do you know there'll be soldiers?"

"It's an official request form the _government. _This is what I'm talking about, Booth. You're not thinking!" Glad that the junior agent is listening, Sam shows his relief through irritation, again picking up the folder only to slam it down with force. "It almost cost you your job. I don't want to get handed something like this again, Booth. Understand?"

Yes, sir."

Though he nods as he leaves, accepting that maybe he rashly chose the wrong avenue, Booth just can't seem to shake that feeling of wrongness. It has to nothing to do about Brennan's behavior, that's it's own separate worry but there's…something, something eating at him. The lack of information, why did she know so little? Or was she not being fully forthcoming? Her email was a little odd, a little formal like how she acts when she attempts to keep something from him. Fruitless frustration burning his stomach, Booth walks back through the bullpen.

* * *

><p>Tired from spending all day staring into a microscope and ready to pick up his wife on the way home, Hodgins tosses his bag into the passenger seat of his car. His cell dings an email and he picks it up, his mind already on kissing Angela. The disinterest dissolves from his eyes, one hand starting the car as the other dials on his cell. He backs out of the parking spot, placing his Bluetooth in his ear.<p>

"Booth, you on your way home?" he says as the phone is answered. "Well Angela and I are on our way there. Ease up, G-man. This is about Brennan. Yeah, I know where she's going."


	17. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Cell phone to his ear, Booth blows out a quiet breath, one of the many knots in his stomach loosening with relief. Hodgins pulled through, he knows where Brennan is. He takes a second, leaning back against the cold stone wall, painted a depressing beige that seem to be made exclusively for prisons visiting rooms, and chuckles very softly to himself. Maybe Sam's right and he has been blowing the whole Guatemala thing out of proportion. She's not military on some secret op, she's a college student. And now that he knows where she is, and probably what she's doing if Hodgins' connections are any good, if something starts to go wrong down there…

He frowns, the ball of tension and foreboding at the base of his neck still wound tight. He can't say why, but something in his bones is telling him that trouble for Brennan isn't an 'if'.

"Booth?" Hodgins' voice through the phone still at his ear pulls back into the present. He shakes off the dark thoughts, trying to convince himself that he's worrying too much. "You still there, man?"

"Yeah. And you know what, Saturday night, first shot of Jack is on me. Look, I'll be a couple of hours, so I'll just meet you at your place." The heavy door across from opens with loud buzz and he pushes off the wall. "Gotta go."

"Alright. When do you think you'll be-" the beep of being hung upon has Hodgins starring down at his phone in annoyance. "Thanks for the help, Hodgins. Bye now."

"Booth," Russ says in suspicious surprise as he's led into the confining room. The two men stand looking at each other as the guards leave them, locking the large door again with a startling buzz. Unwilling to risk his pride by showing the intimidating he feels from his sister's boyfriend, Russ sits down at the small metal table with a mask of comfort. "Nice suit."

"Thanks. Can't say the same about yours." Russ looks down at the offending bright orange jump suit and shrugs. Booth shakes his head and sits. "You know, you're an idiot Russ. I like you, but you're a real idiot. A chop shop?"

"You drove almost two hours all the way down here, just to give me a lecture?" Russ frowns at him in confusion. "How'd you even know I was here?"

"FBI," Booth says just a little smugly, taking a small card out of his pocket. "I came to give you this. Lecture's just a bonus."

Russ picks it up, looking incredulously at Booth. "A lawyer. Seriously?"

"Hank Lutrell's a friend. He doesn't handle these kind of cases anymore, but trust me, he'll get you a good lawyer."

"Thanks, but," Russ tosses the card down. "I think I'm fine with the public defender."

Booth chuckles lowly, deliberately pushing the card back across the table. "Call the number, Russ. Ok? Don't be an ass."

"I don't need my little sister's boyfriend pulling strings for me. I'm fine," Russ declares with a prideful determination Booth decides must be part of the Brennan gene. Booth shakes his head in frustration as he stands, though he leaves the card on the table.

"Ok, fine. Good luck with that."

"Why didn't-" Booth looks down at Russ as the younger man shifts in guilt, dejection infused in his voice. "I guess Tempe didn't want to see me. Disappointed right?"

"She probably would be," Booth sits again. "If I had told her."

Russ gapes in surprise. "You didn't tell her?"

"Didn't see the point, she's got enough to think about." He leans back in the uncomfortable chair, lightly taping his thumb on the table. "She's in Guatemala, on a dig for school."

"Guatemala?" Russ blinks.

"Yeah. For about a month now, she's still got a month left at least," Booth frowns, feeling that little twinge again.

"You let her go to Guatemala for months?"

"Yeah, I let her. Cause she's so good at doing what I tell her." They laugh companionably together at their shared knowledge of Brennan's stubbornness. Slowly their smiles fall away, Booth eyes hardening in reproach. "She really wanted to see you before she left, was waiting at the airport for you to show up."

"I didn't know she…She left a message on my machine, saying she was going on a dig. She didn't say anything about Guatemala or that she'd be gone for months. I just thought it was one of her two week Arizona things, didn't see the point in driving all the way up to DC." Guilt eating his gut, Russ scrubs his hands over his face. "I should have called her back. I would have gone if I knew. Man…was she pissed?"

"What do you think?" Booth relishes Russ's squirms for a moment, remembering all too well the sad look in Brennan's eyes when she didn't see her brother coming to say goodbye to her. No matter how much she declares her independence, he knows there is a part of her that will be always be the worshipful little sister. Suddenly curious, Booth shifts in his chair, clearing his throat. "Russ, when was the last time you talked to Bones?"

"About a week before she left the message on my machine,"Russ leans back, eyeing him with the measuring look only older brothers are capable of. Booth just stares back, confidently smirking until Russ relents with a smile. "Congratulations, man."

"Thanks," Booth takes his outstretched hand, holding firm after the brief shake. "She won't say it, but I know Bones wants her brother to walk her down the aisle. Call the number, Russ."

"I'll think about it," Russ reluctantly agrees, resentfully taking the card.

"What is it about you Brennans, huh? Can't ever just say thank you when someone tries to help," exasperated, Booth stands and walks to the door to signal the guards. Booth looks back at Russ, his protectiveness for his fiancé's brother, who is almost legally his family, waging war with his anger over the man who once abandoned Brennan and who through his own stupidity can't seem to stop hurting her. It's a doubled edged sword of loyalty he'll probably always feel. "I'll see you around, Russ."

He absorbs that small sting, feeling he deserves it. "Take care of Tempe."

All seriousness, Booth looks straight into his eyes as the door behind him buzzes open. "Count on it."

* * *

><p>"Oh, Russ."<p>

Hidden in the shadows of the tall trees, Max Keenan remorsefully looks at the large intimidating building that holds his son. He might not have been the determined scholar like his Tempe, but Russ was smart, Max tells himself resolutely. He had potential, so much more potential than to end up on the same road as his parents. Max sadly shakes his head, he knew this was coming. He saw the signs when he peeked in at Russ, just to make sure that his kids were still safe. He leans against the nearest tree, his shoulders sagged down with grief and guilt. He knew this was coming and he did nothing to stop it, could do nothing without putting his sons' life at risk by exposing himself. It's all his fault.

A figure comes into view from the prison, a very familiar figure to Max and he instinctively shifts to blend deeper into the trees. FBI Agent Seeley Booth, the man who's been living with his little girl for five years. And just where is Tempe, Max wonders, watching Booth with narrowed steely eyes. After learning what had befallen his daughter during the first three years after leaving, Max has kept a more careful watch over her, starting with a thorough check on her boyfriend. He seems to be a good man, moving up fast in the FBI but still…being FBI makes Booth a cop and Max just can't bring himself to fully trust a cop. Old habits die hard. He watches the black SUV drive away, already planning how to arrange his next cautious visit into Tempe's life.

"You take care of her," he says softly to the quickly retreating vehicle. With one last regret filled stare at the state prison, Max Keenan turns away to once again disappear into the chaotic world.

**IDK how much I want to put Max in, but I love him and just had to throw him in there. please review, let me know that I haven't completely scared away all my readers by not updating for so long!**


	18. Chapter 17

**Thank you all so much for the reviews for the last chapter. So sorry for the wait.**

**Thanks to the awesome musicnlyrics for being my beta. Not all of this was looked over by her, so the mistakes are mostly likely mine.**

**Chapter 17**

"One hundred and fifty people, no running water," Brennan huffs, sweat running down her back as she and Lindsay struggle to unfold a very stubborn cot. "I think small town was an understatement."

"Yeah, no kidding. There," Lindsay grunts and flops down on the now open cot. "I cannot wait until I get back to air conditioning and fast food."

Brennan makes a distracted humming noise, her attention focused through the slit of the tent. Stires is standing across the clearing where the remains were found, examination tents being set up behind him as he talks with one of the half dozen Guatemalan soldiers that have been assigned to the small group. The soldier Stires is speaking to is obviously in charge, older than the others. The rest are positioned randomly over the site, their guns pulling heavily on the straps swung over their shoulders. Only one is standing alone, off in the shade, observing everything through a thin haze of smoke from his cigarette. Brennan watches him for a moment, absorbing his almost rebellious slump against the tree before dismissing him and looking back at the center of their small camp site.

"We should already be examining the remains," she shifts restlessly, disappointment thick in her voice.

"Well, there's not much we can do without all the equipment set up. They're almost done, Temperance, just enjoy the break," Lindsay placates from her cot, eyes closed as she lingers on the edge of slumber.

Brennan grudgingly accepts that logic, finally turning away to sit crossed legged on her own cot. For what seems like the hundredth time that day to her, her thoughts dreamily turn towards the child growing inside her. Will the child be studious like her, or playful like Booth? Whose eyes will the child have, whose smile? Her own lips curve as she imagines an angelic face looking up at her with warm brown eyes and a smile that is an exact replica of Booth's. She can already see those eyes light up with the spark of learning something new or that mouth laughing at some childish antics from its father.

"Looks like you're having some nice thoughts," Lindsay's soft voice breaks her out of her imaginings.

"What?" Brennan blushes, removing her hand from where it was resting lovingly on her abdomen.

Lindsay smiles comfortingly, sitting up on her cot. "I was the same way with my first. Daydreaming about what she would like, what personality traits she would get from me and her father."

"How many children do you have?" Brennan asks curiously, still slightly blushing in embarrassment at been caught in what she deems an irrational moment.

"Four girls. Nineteen, seventeen and twin fourteen year old. Tim and I started young," Lindsay laughs, lost in memories. "Too young our parents thought, but we were so in love. We couldn't stay away from each other even if we wanted to try. From the first moment, we were connected. Know what I mean?"

Brennan thinks of sitting in a dimly lit library, looking up into eyes the color of melted chocolate and it's her turn to smile fondly at her own memories. "Yes, I do."

Their conversation is interrupted by a deafening roar of an engine. They both quickly rise and exit the tent, just in time to see two of the soldier leave in a Jeep, one of them the senior officer Brennan had seen Stires talking to earlier. Brennan scans the campsite, something in her disturbed by how remaining soldiers seemed to be almost swaggering as they watch their superior leave. The cigarette smoking soldier looks straight into her eyes and for a moment her skin freezes at the emptiness in his.

"Alright everyone, we got a few hours left of sunlight. Let's get started," Stires calls out from in front of the now completely set up examination tents. He starts assigning sections out as Brennan strides over to him.

"Michael, what's going on?" she asks, stopping in front of with her hands on her hips.

Stires barely glances at her, moving over the site to direct people to the right spots. "I thought everything was explained clearly in the briefing, Brennan. You didn't seem to have any questions."

"No, I mean now. Why did those soldiers leave?"

"They had another military obligation, one I'm not allowed to share with a student," Michael smiles patronizingly, stopping. "This is your section, anything you recover goes into tent C. Make sure you record all of your findings clearly. I'll look over them if you'd like."

"I can do my job," Brennan argues, insulted.

"I'm just trying to be helpful, Tempe," Stires raises his hands, a small smirk on his face. "Teacher-student, remember?"

Brennan tightens her lips in irritation, disgusted at how his behavior has changed towards her now that he has learned he has no chance with her. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing he's getting to her, she forces out a smile and turns away to get her tools, her stride full of determination. If he wants to question her work, she's damn well going to make sure he eats his words.

* * *

><p>Tired from a full day of work, stiff from hours of driving and anxious for the news on Brennan, Booth stops outside the large wrought-iron gates of the Hodgins Estate and impatiently pushes the intercom buzzer.<p>

"Yeah?" Hodgins' cheerful voice from the small speaker only aggravates his quickly souring mood.

"Open the gate."

"Who is this please?"

"Jack!" Booth slams a hand on his car door.

"Alright, alright. We're in the kitchen, just let yourself in." After pressing the release, Hodgins picks up his just-put-together sandwich, frowning at his wife. "Man, he needs to loosen up."

"Yeah, well, what'd you expect? He acts all tough about everything but when it comes to his Bones, he's a big mushy ball of worry," Angela sighs from her spot at the long counter, resting her chin on a giant jar of pickles, one hand idly playing fiddling with an oatmeal raisin cookie, her trademark saucy smile making its appearance. "It's pretty hot, actually."

Hodgins frowns. "Hey, I worry about you."

Angela gives him a disbelieving look. "Mmm-hmmm."

"Hey, you're carrying my baby. Of course I worry," Jack says defensively, moving around the counter to cup her face. "I worry every day and I know if I indulged myself and let you see that, you'd go crazy and kill me."

"Are you sure you're just not worried I'll get too mushy for you?" Angela teases lightly, touched by the adoring look in his eyes. Jack smiles, leaning in for a quick kiss.

"I don't care if you get mushy or wider, it'll mean there's just more of you to love. And I do love you, Ange. You and my little oecanthus fultoni."

"Ok, we're finding you the sex of the baby the first chance we get," Angela leans back from another of his kisses. "No more bug names."

Hodgins chuckles and crosses back around the counter to his sandwich, pretending not to hear Angela's murmured pout. "I'm not going to get wider."

"Five years and this place is still a freaking maze," Booth grumbles, striding in the surprisingly homey kitchen. He silently raises his brow at the mini buffet in front of Angela, his stomach churning at the odd combination of foods. Deliberately she stabs her large two-pronged fork into the large jar and takes out a dripping pickle, biting into it with a loud crunch.

"You got something to say, Seeley?"

"Nope. Looks, uh, tasty," he wisely backs away, instead focusing on Hodgins. "What'd you find out, Hodgins?"

"Well, I called up the head of the South American import division, Goldman. He's a real cretin but he does his job. He tends to be nosy, so-"

"Look Hodgins, I get it. You wheedled, lied, jumped through hoops," Booth says with a tired, gusty sigh, taking off his jacket and loosening his dice covered tie. "I appreciate it but can you please, just get to the important part?"

"Bad day, studly?" Angela asks sympathetically, nibbling into a cookie.

"Just really long," he pinches the bridge of his nose, settling into a chair at the counter. Seeing the stress wearing on his friend, Jack decides to give him a break, pulling out a perfectly chilled beer and setting it in front of Booth, where it is taken gratefully. "Thanks, man."

"About a week ago, a small squad of Guatemalan soldiers were out on a drill when they stumbled upon a human skull," Hodgins explains, pulling out a beer for himself. "They called it in, a little more digging was done and they figured out pretty quickly that it was more than one body. And apparently the damage to them was pretty extensive."

"But why is Bren's dig group involved?" Angela cuts in with a frown.

"There are factions of rebels building up in the Guatemalan jungles, skirmishes breaking out all the time between the rebels and the soldiers and between themselves. So far the Guatemalan government has kept it pretty stifled, as governments usually do when something pops up that is contrary to the ideals they brainwash people with," Hodgins grins superiorly, a pointed glance aimed at Booth. The agent gives him a glare.

"You seriously want to go there with me now?"

Hodgins smirks, taking a long drink of his beer. "They want to know if it was some kind of accident or it was an unknown fight between the rebels. Either way, they don't want interested parties to find out just yet so they needed a cover."

"American students on a historical dig a few miles away, hey maybe they've just found some more old bones," Booth connects the dots, wincing as Angela takes another bite of pickle.

"Basically, yeah," Jack agrees. "Seriously, Booth, I don't think you have to worry. They'll be on around the clock military watch. In fact…the cover could be a cover of a discovery proving that extraterrestrial intervention is what sparked the beginning and end of every great civilization. Oh man, that is so awesome."

Angela glances at Booth's bewildered face, rising with a sigh to speak pleadingly with her overly excited husband. "Can you please stop being so weird around people? It makes me very uncomfortable."

"What?" Hodgins shrugs, undisturbed. "It's just Booth, he's not people."

"Thanks," Booth dead pans, rubbing his neck where that little niggle of worry still resides. "So, what's the name of the town she's at? All she told me was the general area."

"Just a small town, um," Jack screws up his face as he thinks. "Chi-uh, Chiant-something."

"Chiantla," Booth corrects, thoughtlessly spinning his barely touched beer. "I've heard of it"

He pushes up from his seat before either can ask questions, tossing his jacket over his arm. "Thanks, guys. I'm beat, I'm heading home."

"You sure?" Angela asks. Booth smiles fondly at her, bending to kiss her cheek.

"Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow, alright? Jack," he turns seriously to Hodgins, the beseeching look of his eyes impossible to ignore. "Keep your ear to the ground ok?"

With a final small smile and a wave, the couple watch him walk out. Hodgins leans across the counter, stealing a cookie from Angela which she promptly takes back.

"Hey!"

"When you grow a small human inside you, you can have all the cookies you want," Angela smiles widely, taking her plate of cookies and sliding off the stool. "And I won't care if you get wider."

* * *

><p>The soft glow of sunset is starting to fall over the trees, the temperature from the blazing sun finally starting to drop. Lamps are starting to illuminate the beige tents surrounding what the team fully recognizes as a gravesite. So far six bodies have been excavated, each in pieces with many of the bones blackened by fire. Because of the waning light, the site has been covered and the bodies moved into the examination tents.<p>

Brennan frowns down at the remain on the table in front of her, instinctively shrugging as a line of sweat works its way down her back. Gentle and graceful, her hands move over the damaged bones in front of her, feeling it's texture and searching for any clues to what happened to the person they once were. A small bead of moisture tickles her temple and she uses the inside of her arm to swipe it away, distracting her enough to actually notice Lindsay's entrance into the tent. The older woman is obviously drained, either from the sun or emotionally, Brennan can't tell which.

"It's almost time to eat, Temperance." Lindsay looks down at the remains, sighing sadly. "I've been talking to the others. They've found some injures that indicate torture."

"Really?" Brennan frowns, picking up the small, burned skull.

This a child," Lindsay says softly, a little stunned.

"Yes. A girl about thirteen," Brennan says distractedly. It takes Lindsay's shuddering sigh to draw her attention away from her examination. It takes her a second to reason out the possible reasons for Lindsay's discomfort, but when she does her voice is quietly apologetic. "I'm sorry, this must be distressing because you have children her age."

"Just a little girl," Lindsay whispers, shaking her head. "Who would torture a little girl? Why?"

"I haven't found any evidence yet of torture," Brennan muses, returning to her examination of the skull. "There are fractures to the sixth and seventh ribs, consistent with a forceful kick, but all other trauma to the body appears to be post mortem."

"Vertebrae, femurs, pelvis." Lindsay observes, pulling in her emotions. "Same type of post mortem breaks as the others. Anything on the skull?"

"Maxillofacial remodeling, most likely a result of an accident when she was very young," Brennan points it out then turns the skull around to show a small round hole in the back. "This, however, is cause of death."

"A gun shot?" Lindsay deduces, stunned again. "Someone shot a thirteen year old girl in the back of the head?"

"Executed," Brennan corrects with a trace of the sadness she feels inside, delicately placing the skull down. "Someone thrust her head towards her chest, put a gun to head and executed her."

"Why?"

"I'm not very good at conjecture," Brennan dismisses distractedly, spotting something under the ribs.

Stires enter the tent, glance barely settling on the obviously small bones on the table. "We're shutting down for the night. Dinner's being served."

"Michael," Brennan stops him breathlessly, holding up a small metal object. "Look at this."

"What is it?"

"The bullet that killed this girl. It's from an IWI Galil ACE rifle," Brennan lowers her voice, looking directly into Stires' eyes. "The same gun the soldiers watching us are carrying."

"What are you getting at Tempe? How do you even know that?"

"From Booth."

"Professor," the rest of the team flows into the tent, their faces wearing similar looks of anxiety. "We've just found a seventh body. A woman, mid-fifties. Similar injuries as the rest."

"And same cause of death," says a small Asian woman, holding out small bullet in her gloved hand. "Gunshot wound to the sternum, mostly likely from an assault rifle."

"Execution," Brennan says softly. "The soldiers did it."

Lindsay hesitates, fear lurking just beneath her steady voice. "You can't know that Temperance. You just said you don't do conjecture."

"It's not conjecture, it's a…an intuitive leap," Brennan says defiantly. "If it wasn't these men, it was other soldiers. These people were possibly hiding the location of rebel forces and refused to tell the soldiers where. They tortured the adults but simply executed this girl because she was too young to know anything."

"It's a possible scenario, Professor Stires," the Asian woman agrees, the others murmuring behind her. "The Guatemalans are basically at war with the rebels. Horrible things happen in war."

"The Guatemalans wouldn't want this to get out if it is, that's for sure," Stires muses.

Brennan looks down at the small body in front of them, one had unconsciously moving to settle protectively over her stomach. The tall man who had entered first speaks up, clearly looking for direction.

"What do we do?"

The tent is silent, waiting for an answer. The all know the risk of revealing what could have happened. They're in another country, surrounded by that county's military and they are considering accusing that military of dishonorable tactics. Stires takes a deep breath, nodding to himself for a moment as he comes to a decision.

"We tell the truth," Michael finally looks down at the remains, his face hard. "We tell the truth, we don't flinch."

Hours later, after dinner and everyone else finally tired of whispering of the circumstances of the bodies they've examined, Brennan lies awake on her cot, thinking. She acted nothing like herself in that tent. She jumped to conclusions without much more than a mere suggestion of evidence, allowed herself to become emotionally worked up. She had felt fear, had seriously considered altering her findings and she feels a little repulsed at herself, at that weakness.

She turns to her side, her hand again going to rest against her flat stomach. No, she shakes her head, she can't feel too ashamed for how she felt. She was following her natural instincts to protect her young. Slowly, striving to not wake Lindsay, Brennan sits up on her cot. She looks around the moonlit tent, thinking of the potential danger she could be exposing her child to, of weeks already spent in this country, away from her Booth. Why? She has done nothing significant here except for the report on the murdered girl.

"Oh, crap," Brennan shoves off her cot, unaware of how she has picked up some of Booth's phrases over the years. "The report."

As silently as she can, she puts on her shoes and leaves Lindsay sleeping soundly in the tent. She strides across the site, huffing to herself. This whole trip hasn't been worth it for her and she regrets ever coming. No matter what Stires says, tomorrow she's making arrangements to go home. As soon as she can, she's going to be in Booth's arms.

She slips into the examination tent, looking compassionately down at the covered remains on the table. She wants to do so much more for the child, but she's prohibited but the stifling rules of politics. But she will do what she can, and so Brennan picks up her report, flipping through it as she turns to exit the tent. She stumbles to a stop, suddenly blinded by the beam of a flashlight.

"Hey!" She raises a hand, trying to squint past the light.

The beam is lowered and instantly Brennan is on alert. It's the cigarette smoking soldier and his gun is pointed straight at her.

"Give me the papers," he demands in a heavy accent but Brennan doesn't doubt for a second that he has understood every word the entire group has said the entire time. It's in those dark, merciless eyes. "Now."

A shout has the soldier's head snapping away and Brennan takes the opportunity. The report clutched tightly in her hand, she uses her shoulder to tackle the taller man out of her way. She bursts out of the tent, shouts sounding as the others awaken around her but she isn't thinking about that. Her eyes are focused on the jungle twenty feet away. She doesn't know what she'll do once she's in there, her only thought is to get her and her baby away from that gun.

"Temperance!" she hears a woman scream but she doesn't stop, not even as the smell of smoke starts to hit her nostrils.

Finally she feels the brush of leaves as she reaches the jungle but now guilt rushes in and she stops. Before she even turns around her body is thrown to the ground, dirt scraping her chin. Stunned from the impact she can do nothing as her hands are wrenched behind her back and tied, the report snatched out of her hand.

"Americano?" a deep voice says above her and she is painfully to standing by her bound hands.

"Si," her capture answer breathing heavily, his iron grip bruising her arm.

Brennan barely has a moment to take in the sweaty and heavily armed men surrounding her before a smelly bag is placed over her head. She opens her mouth to yell, sucking in hot, foul air but there's a sharp pain on the back of her head and everything goes blank.

**So I'm going a little out of my depth here, but I hope I don't have anything too wrong. Mostly I need you guys to just go with it.**

**Leave reviews, let me know what you think!**


	19. Chapter 18

**Major, major thanks to musicnlyrics for being my awesome beta**

**Chapter 18**

"Bones!"

Booth shoots up in bed, right hand automatically reaching towards gun resting inside the bedside table. He stops himself right before opening the drawer, closing his hand into a tight fist as he waits for his pounding heart rate to ease. He glances at the clock, grimacing at the time; 4:47 am. No way will he fall back asleep again before work, not after a horror of a nightmare like that.

"Jesus, Temperance," he mumbles shakily, unable to fight back his weakness while surrounded by the dark. "Come home, baby. Please."

His heart is still unsteady, but his breathing is now a little more even so he rises from his bed, shedding off his sweat drenched shirt. He hates waking up in the early morning this way, when the heavy silence is unbroken and distractions are nonexistent. On these mornings all he think about is how she cuddles against him in her sleep, one foot always finding its way to rest on top of his leg in some way or of the fuzzy blue of her eyes in the morning before that first cup of coffee.

He walks into the small living room area, rubbing a hand over the knot of worry residing in his stomach. He glances over at the laptop sitting on its lonely shelf. There was no email waiting for him when he returned from the Hodgins estate. There was no email when he checked again right before settling down in bed. There is no doubt in his mind that the lack of communication with Brennan is why after tossing and turning for an hour, he had such a hellish nightmare.

He was back in Guatemala, his clothes soaked through was the intense humidity all but squeezed the sweat out of his skin. Bugs crawled over his skin but he didn't give them more than a second's notice, simply accepting them as part of his surroundings, the same as he would a leaf waving in the breeze. A few feet away from him was the Guatemalan sniper working with him, a deeply scarred man in his late thirties who gave his name as simply Coralilo, a nickname of some sort. He was a high ranking officer in the Guatemalan army before it was corrupted by a dictator who liked nothing more than to slowly torture and kill those who get in his way, regardless of status, sex or age; the very man they are both there to end. Booth didn't completely trust this man who was unofficially assigned as his backup, the very brief conversation they shared focused mostly on establishing they were both Catholic, as Coralilo had seen Booth's St. Christopher medal.

In the middle of the dark jungle, they each rested at their post, bodies tensed and eyes focused through the scope of a rifle, pointed at the same location: the dictator's tent. For three days they have watched the man's movements until they can recognize his distinctive shadow from those of his soldiers. As the moon peeked out from the single lonely cloud above, the dictator exited his tent and two steps before a loud boom preceded a deep red stain on the cloth over his heart. Booth had watched through his scope as the target fell to ground among chaos all through the camp. He held still, even as he felt another part of his soul wither with the theft of another life, until he heard a muffled cry of pain to his left. Even in the dark and through the thick jungle growth he can determine what is happening; Coralilo was discovered. Booth was up in a second without thought, unable to leave a fellow solider behind, even if they worked together only for a few days.

With a heavy fierceness fueled by the instinct of survival he beat his way to the flailing form on the ground, taking painful hits himself. in a blur he fought until he only he was left standing, the adrenaline coursing through his veins uncaring if the bodies on the ground are breathing or not. He bent down to help his injured comrade but what he saw almost stop his heart. This time it wasn't a bleeding and supremely pissed Coralilo at his feet. It was Brennan, his Bones, covered in bruises and blood, her cracked lips moving just enough to form two heartbreaking words.

"_Booth. Help."_

Standing in his dark living room, Booth rubs his face to help expel the images from his thoughts again. He walks through the living room into the kitchen, setting every light he passes burning to help shed off the dark cloud hovering over his head. He settles at the table, determined to finish the stack of paperwork he had left there before he went to bed. He picks up the pen but instead of working he just taps it against the wood of the table in a slow, thoughtful, rhythm. Though he asked Hodgins for help in getting information, he hasn't wanted to taint his friend by dragging him deeper into the dark side of the world, even if it would be diluted by the many levels of the Cantilever Group. But he is going to, tomorrow. For no matter what everyone is telling him, he has never gone against his gut and he's not going to risk it now. Knowing he must wait until a more decent hour to wake Hodgins, Booth flips open the top manila folder and gets to work.

* * *

><p>The smell of damp earth invades her senses a second before the pain in her head threatens to turn her brain to gelatin. Slowly, cautiously, she cracks open her fluttering eyes. Brennan fights back panic when instead of seeing potentially painful blinding light her vision is filled with darkness. Her breath quickens, deep sobs threating to tear their way out of her throat. She cautiously moves her head, blinking furiously until with a great exhalation of relief she discerns some change in the light around her, the dim outline of a door across from her. She's not blind, but in a dark room with dirt floors. Her hands are tightly bound in front of her and she uses that slight freedom to test the horrible throbbing coming from her head.<p>

Her breath hisses out as her fingers gingerly examine the wound, tears filling her eyes from the sting but thankfully there doesn't appear to be any fractures. She systematically checks her body for injuries, finding only sore bruises and a twisted ankle, possibly a light sprain. Lastly, with trembling hands, she rests her hands over her womb. Tears of fear slide down her cheek as she slowly feels for the wet presence of blood between her legs, an indication that she has miscarried. Her face crumples, her body folding in on itself, arms tightly holding her stomach.

"Thank you," she sobs, unable to finds words to express the relief at finding no trace of blood. "Thank you. Thank you."

For a few moments she just lays there, a thin figure in the darkness convulsing with sobs of gratefulness that she still has her baby. But she knows that the danger isn't gone, there could be complications that will increase every hour that she is held in this windowless cell. Heavy footsteps in the corridor outside the door have her scrambles up from her prone position on the floor. She wipes the vulnerable tears off her face, digging her heels into the dirt and bracing her back against the wall. There's no doubt that whoever enters her cell will have a gun but she doesn't intend to let an opportunity of escape pass by. She's not just fighting for her own life but her and Booth's child.

The lock sounds, the grind of metal horrendously loud in her ears over the pounding of her heart. The door opens and she barely holds back a cry of pain as she instinctively closes her eyes against the offending bright light aimed right at her face. The light is moved off her face and she looks up into the smirking face of the soldier from the tent, the one she has no doubt hit her in the head with the very gun pointing right at her heart. She stares defiantly back at him, not allowing a single muscle to quiver in front of her captor.

"What is your name?" he finally asks, standing intimidatingly above her. The barrel of the gun doesn't waver an inch, his finger on the trigger steady and sure.

"Why?" Brennan demands, cursing the rustiness of her voice. Her dry throat is aching for water.

The smirk widens. "So that if someone asks after you, I can kill them too."

Brennan stares him down, lifting her chin. "Go to hell."

He just laughs, reaching into his pocket with is free hand to toss a small bag of what she assumes is food at her feet. He follows that with a tiny metal bottle that lands with a heavy thunk. Brennan barely spares the glance, waiting for an opening to attack as he slowly walks closer. The barrel presses harshly into her chest as he leans down.

"You'll be there way before me, bonita," he smiles viciously, a strong hand striking like a viper across her face, making her cry out.

Laughing, he walks out before she can recover from the blow. She raises her hands to her bleeding nose and now cut cheek as the lock grates close and the darkness envelopes her once again. The enclosed space, the smell and feel of flowing blood rushes back memories of her time spent in the trunk of her foster parents' car. She starts to breathe heavily, her thoughts automatically turning to the main source of comfort she's had for five years: Booth. Her breath hitches with pain. She doesn't know how long she's been here, but surely by now Booth is beside himself with worry by her lack of contact. She can see his handsome face set in hard lines in concern and suffering as it had when his grandmother was sick; it's almost enough to break her heart. Shaking with suppressed sobs, Brennan lowers her head to her upraised knees, utterly alone in the darkness.

**Ok, I am so sorry about how long this took. I got total writer's block. But I worked through it and (good news) I know exactly what I want to happen next already laid out in my head. Only the bad news now is not only do I got school, but my brother's new baby is being delivered tomorrow. For those who haven't been following, this is now his fourth child since 2009. So he and his baby mama are relying on me a lot to help out. I do promise that the next chapter will be up before the end of the month. Please tell me what you guys thought of this?**


	20. Chapter 19

**Thanks musicnlyrics, my awesome beta buddy**

**Chapter 19**

"No, come on," Angela groans into her pillow, hoping that pulling the large cover over her head will stop the incessant buzzing from waking her up. "Jack, make it stop."

The buzzing continues, hacking away at her comfortable slumber until with a growl she kicks her leg back to wake her husband. Feeling only empty mattress, she sits up, pulling back her wildly tousled hair. "Jack?"

The buzzing from the wall demands attention again and so she rises from the bed with murderous mumbles towards the absent father of her child and whomever the hell it is on the other side of that buzzer. She pushes in the button with more force than necessary, glaring evilly. "What!?"

"Angela, open the gate and get Hodgins downstairs. NOW." Angela blinks in shock at Booth's harsh voice, a cold shiver of fear running down her spine.

"What's wrong?" she demands, pressing the gate release. She waits two seconds for an answer but when she receives none, she quickly rushes out of the room, calling for Hodgins.

"Jack! Shit," she forces herself to slow as she descends the stairs, one hand resting on her rounded belly. Her heart is pounding, her breath threatening to clog her throat. She just knows something has happened to Brennan, it's the only thing she can think of that would put that tone in Booth's voice. "Jack! Where the hell are you?"

"He's on the phone outside," Zack informs her coming from the direction of the kitchen, tousled hair and muffin crumbs on his pajama top adding to his look of bewilderment. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know. But from the sound of Booth, it's bad," Angela rushes to the large front door where loud, demanding knocks are already sounding.

The second she opens the door enough, Booth barrels through. "Where's Jack?"

"What's going on?" Angela demands, her panic increasing at the wild look in her friend's eyes. Both she and Zack follow his purposeful search of the ground floor, he two struggling to keep up with his long strides.

"She's gone," he barks, making his way to the spacious kitchen, the warmth of the large room seeming to mock him in his dark mood. Behind him Zack freezes, Angela's face draining of blood so quickly she has to lean heavily against the nearest wall.

"Oh god. Bren…oh god, Bren's dead?"

"What?" Booth whirls around, stepping towards with a look so fierce, for a second her heart stops in fear. "Don't you say that! Don't even put that out there!"

"But you said…" Zack's weak voice fades into silence as he receives the full force of Booth's glare.

"Where's Bren?" Angela yells, tears streaming down her face at the onslaught of fear and worry surging through her.

"She's missing," Hodgins says, walking in from outside, pale face directed towards Booth. "Taken by mercenaries seems like. Booth-"

"Last night! She was kidnapped last fucking night!" All three of his friends flinch back as he roars, stalking towards Hodgins. "Why the hell didn't you call me?"

"I just found out!" Hodgins yells back, gesturing to the cell still in his hands. "I told Goldman to keep an ear out about Brennan's group and he just heard about it. I swear I was going to call you right now. How do you already know?"

"One of my superiors," Booth says shortly, feeling gratitude for Sam Riley for believing in his gut enough to look into Brennan's dig activities battling against a resentment that Sam kept him doing anything from possibly avoiding this situation.

Booth looks out the kitchen window the beautiful clear sky and feels self-disgust burning his stomach. From the second he heard Sam's somber voice on his cell, dread filled his lungs. His mind went numb, hearing only horrific phrases. 'Camp ambushed'; 'all the tents burned'; 'one dig member dead, gunshot'; 'Ms. Brennan missing, suspected she's being held captive'; 'I'm sorry, Booth. There's nothing we can do until they make contact.' He hadn't even waited for that sentence to finish before the rage building inside him overflowed and he rammed his fist into the wall. Already dressed for work, he grabbed his keys and flew out of his apartment to the Hodgins estate, his only thought on his Bones.

Now, standing in the Hodgins kitchen, the guilt is threatening to choke him. He knew something was wrong. He knew that he should have done something, anything, to make sure she was safe. But he didn't; he let himself be talked out of it by those around him instead of following his instinct. And now his fiancé, the only person he can see himself with for the rest of his life, is missing and going through God knows what. Visions of nightmarish proportions start to evade his thoughts but he pushes them aside, fighting back a shudder. No, Brennan's not going through that. Not her, she's too strong.

Behind him he can hear Hodgins filling in Angela and Zack on what happened. Listening to it all again, he slowly pulls back his emotions as best he can. His face goes hard, his eyes cold. His muscles tense, his senses razor sharp. No longer is he thinking like an FBI agent, but like the highly skilled army sniper he was just a few years ago. In seconds his mind conjures and rejects dozens of possible plans of action, finding the strength and flaws of each. Main Objective: Bring Bones back to DC. First Priority: Getting to her. What needs to happen to achieve that objective? With determination he strides to the pad of paper and pen lying next to the kitchen phone. He fills the small paper with information and tears it off briskly.

"Hodgins," Booth commanding tone interrupts Hodgins' comforting words to his wife. He slaps the paper into the scientist's hand. "Find a way to deliver that message to the man on the top without implicating yourself too much. I'm serious on this, Jack."

"Alright," Hodgins agrees grimly, pulling his arm away from Angela's waist.

"Ok. You got a private jet, right?" Booth asks as he starts quickly walking back to the front door.

"Yeah," Hodgins agrees slowly, the three following down the hall.

"What are you thinking, Booth?" Angela inquires, still sniffling tears.

"I don't care what excuse you make up, but you get me on a plane to La Aurora airport. Huehuetenango would be better," he ignores her, turning at the door to look almost menacingly at Hodgins. "As soon as possible. Got me?"

"Yeah. I'll call you when it's ready," Hodgins assures him, concerned for his friends. He can't help but feel like this is partly his fault. He brushed off Booth's concerns, he didn't even truly consider hiring anyone to go down and guard Brennan or her group. If anything happens to her, he doesn't know if Booth or even Angela will ever forgive him. But even worse than that, he doesn't he will forgive himself either.

"Why Huehuetenango?" Zack asks, his curious mind unable to let a question go even with worry for a friend whirling through his brain.

"It's the closest airport to Chiantla," Booth answers over his shoulder, closing the door behind him. He slams into his car, thinking through checklists of what has to be done before he leaves for Guatemala. "Hang on, Bones. I'm coming."

**Yes it's short, and two days later than I promised. But life just kept springing things at me, including a minor car crash and internet issues. I intended to have more to this chapter, but I didn't want to make you all wonderful people waiting too long. So as long as there's not too many more surprises in my life, the next bit will be up soon. Please review, tell me what you think.**


	21. Chapter 20 (FINALLY!)

**Chapter 20**

A loud grumble breaks through the heart-wrenching sobs echoing in the tiny room. The noise and the strange vibration from her stomach surprises Brennan out of her tears. Chest hitching with shaking breaths, she sits up straight again, wincing as her injured ankle is jostled. She uses her bound hands to wipe her face, the dirt smoothing off to create mud tracks on her cheeks. Another insistent growl from her stomach reminds her that she doesn't know how long she's been held. _Hours or days?_ She asks herself, the bitter taste of panic raising up again in her throat.

Panting now, she blinks through the quickly suffocating dark, straining to see anything but the blackness which surrounds her. She clenches her hands to her chest in a white-fingered knot, struggling to suck in enough air from the musky room. With each wheezy inhale the years roll back, speeding past the years of love and laughter living with Booth, past meeting her friends during her last year in high school, back and back until she's once again stuck in that horrible trunk. She's scared, so very scared and alone, so completely alone. No one knows that she's trapped, no cares; she's forgotten, unloved.

"No," she barks out in a whisper, raising her face up to the ceiling, eyes closed tightly as she forces her lungs to slow. She has to focus, to allow her body time to receive the air or she'll pass out. "Booth loves me. Booth...we're having a baby._ I_ have a baby. I have a baby."

She holds in a deep breath, focusing her resolved into that one thought: her baby. The shaking, the tears, the horrible hitching breaths, slowly they all stop. Her hands lay over the life resting within her and protectiveness more fierce than she has ever felt in her life pulses through her.

She is not going to just in the dark and cry like a coward, putting her unborn child's life at risk. She is going to do anything she possibly can to get her child to safety. Though sluggish from her injury, her genius mind whirs into back into action.

The entire camp knows she is missing; it is a very slim possibility that everyone within the small detail digging group was killed and, even so, there is the larger group waiting for them back at the main site. The main dig was funded through a major university, a horrific event such as this would instantly attract national attention. So logic dictates that someone is searching for her and for any others missing from the dig. So her goal should be to get of the small room so that she can be found.

"Okay," she breaths softly, coursing her steps in her mind. First, she decides as her stomach rumbles again, she needs to eat.

With great distaste, she reaches for the small bag the soldier had tossed at her. With some difficulty thanks to the tight rope around her hands, she unties the bag and spills its contents into her palms: a revolting piece of hard–rock-bread surrounding a slimy, putrid piece of meat product. Grimacing with disgust, she peels the meat out of its cocoon and tosses it into the corner. Bracing herself, she clenches her teeth around the bread and pulls, quickly using any saliva she can gather to soften the stale bread. Resolutely she chews, eyes watering at the sour flavor of the bread. When the bread is soft and small enough to fit down her throat, she swallows and quickly reaches for the water canteen. The first quick swallow clears her mouth but the second has her gagging past the metallic warm liquid.

She forces her system to settle and then ruthlessly goes through the process again until finally all of the sour bread is gone. Still coughing from the wretched 'food', she starts wiggling her wrists. Pain releases in a hiss as the rope tugs at her soft flesh. Bending her arms awkwardly, she struggles to get her teeth onto the knot of the rope.

The minutes tick by as little progress is made and, slowly, the panic starts to sink in again. Brennan stops using her teeth and starts fruitlessly pulling her wrists. Every burn, every drop of blood that leaks out from the unforgiving rope eats at her determination. The warmth of the small room has beads of sweat rolling down her back and the "dinner" churning in her stomach. She twists and tugs but the rope stays firm.

"Come on!" she grits out between clenched teeth, feeling anger lurking just under her desperation. She latches onto it like a life saver: anger is useful; anger can make you stronger. She uses all her strength, savagely using her teeth to pull, her voice raising to a yell without her control. "Come on!"

"Hello?" a voice, full of fear and desperation, breaks through the darkness.

Brennan's head snaps up, eyes staring sightlessly in the direction of the door.

"Hello?" the tearful and familiar voice calls out again. "Someone there? Please."

**I am sorry for the wait. The reasons are too numerous and depressing to explain. I want to thank everyone who reviewed or pm'd me about updating. Thank you to every single person still reading this now. **

**And major thanks to my friend and beta musicnlyrics for reading over this for me and for being there for me during the horrific past year, even when her life wasn't going any better than mine. **

**So, please review. Tell me what you think, what you wish will happen. Just please continue to be the nice, respectful reviews you have been. And as far as how often I'll update, I think I can promise at least one per month. But, as life is fickle, that could change. Be patient please**


	22. Chapter 21

"Lindsay," Brennan calls as relief washes over her; she's not alone in the dark. She scuttles forward without thinking, her teeth snapping shut as pain shoots up her leg as she sharply shifts her ankle. "It's Temperance."

"Temperance?" Lindsay's strained voice floats out of the darkness.

"I'm here Lindsay," Brennan refocuses on her bindings, using her teeth with renewed vigor. Somehow, hearing her friend's voice has steadied her nerves.

"Temperance! Oh my… I saw you-oh god!" Lindsay gasps and poorly stifles a moan. Brennan's head snaps up at the sound, her eyes straining uselessly in the black as she listens to the woman pant in obvious pain. "When everything started going to hell, I saw you running…chased into the woods. I thought-"

"Are you injured?" she interrupts briskly, concern pounding from her heart. What if Lindsay is shot, bleeding profusely? Will she have to uselessly sit here in the dark, listening to her newest friend slowly die?

"Yes. My foot, it's fractured. And my head…I don't know how I got hit, but my shirt is s-soaked in blood. I might have a concussion.

"Temperance?" Brennan has to strain to her the soft, tearful voice. "God, I hope this is a stupid question, but please…tell me it's dark for you too."

"You're not blind, Lindsay." Relieved that the injuries weren't serious, Brennan again fights against her ropes. "We're underground."

"Thank God! What about you? Are you alri- Oh my God!" Brennan hears shuffling in the dirt and she assumes that their rooms must not be far apart. "Your baby! Temp-"

"I'm fine," she cuts Lindsay off sharply, grunting in pain as a layer of her skin is torn off by the rubbing of the ropes. "We have to get out of here. Try to, ugh, loosen the ropes."

"What do they want with us?" soft exclaims of pain space out the words, telling Brennan that her advice is being followed. "Ransom? Ow. Politics?"

"I have no idea. Oh _yes_!" her voice drops to a whisper of unbelieving relief. Blood trickles down her arms and a part of her mind notes that she might have a scar on her left wrist where the skin tore off, but that doesn't matter now. Hot, thick tears roll softly down her cheeks as her lifts her now free hands.

"Temperance?"

"I got my hands free." Her fingers shaking, either from the rush of adrenaline hope or from pain, Brennan attacks the ropes binding her feet. "Keep working."

* * *

><p>"Excuse me?" Angela crosses her arms, dark brows almost disappearing in her still disheveled hair. "Oh, I <em>dare<em> you to say that again."

Hodgins doesn't bother to sigh, just continues packing, his tone deliberately slow. "I'm not letting you come."

"Ok bucko, listen-"

"To what?" exasperated with the argument, nerves wound tight, he slams shut the suit case before turning sharply to his wife. "What possible reasons could there be that will convince me to take my _pregnant _wife to a politically unstable, obviously violent, third world country?"

"Bren's my sister, Jack," Angela stabs her finger deeply into his chest. "I love her."

Looking into her tear-filled eyes, his anger ebbs away. He grabs her finger, raising it to his lips before cupping her cheek softly.

"I know, baby. She loves you too. Which is why she won't want you risking your or the baby's health by jetting away to another country without talking to a doctor first. Angie, all you'll be able to do is pace around an unfamiliar hotel room. Just stay here, pace where you'll be comfortable and safe."

Angela can only shake her head, knowing he's right. "Why are you going? What do you think you're going to be able to do in the jungle, Tarzan?"

Hodgins smiles softly at her attempted joke. "Booth needs someone with him. I can't even imagine how hard this is for him. The guy is one misstep from crumpling into an emotional mess. He can't go down there alone. And, having someone along with an unlimited bank account won't hurt. Besides, it's my plane."

She gives him the soft chuckle he was trying to get from her, pulling him tightly into an embrace. Her mouth claims his, her fingernails scraping through his curls. "Be careful, Jack."

"I will be, every second. If we're not back by Thursday, promise me you'll go to your doctor appointment." He halts her protest with a fierce kiss. "Angela. Please. Promise me."

"Okay. I promise." With a deep sigh, she cups his face, her thumbs rubbing against his bearded cheeks. "I love you."

"I love you more."

Angela takes one more slow kiss and then releases her husband. Hodgins closes the locks of the suitcase and lifts it up. He takes a long look at his wife, her hand resting softly on the mound that is their child. With a confident smirk he walks out of the room.

* * *

><p>"A week?"<p>

"Seven days, that's what I said." That's all he needs, he tells himself, swerving around traffic with one hand on the steering wheel. He'll find her by then. He has to. "I have the time."

"Booth," Sam sighs over the phone, rubbing his face. Guilt is eating at his gut, doubts swirling in his head that maybe his instincts aren't as sharp anymore. But more than anything is worry for his friend.

"I'm taking the time, Sam," Booth says coldly, taking a turn so sharp that the heavy bags on the back seat fall with a clatter. "Approve the time or report me. My job is the least of my concerns right now."

A heavy silence hangs between the two men.

"Your ass is in front of your desk at seven hundred hours Tuesday morning, Booth." Sam waits a beat. "Or I won't have a choice."

"Thanks, Sam." No sooner has he clicked off then his phone rings again. Risking a horrific crash considering his speed, Booth glances down at the display. He debates for a brief second before answering. "Hey."

"What the hell is going on?" Hank's angry and distressed voice in his ear has Booth distracted enough to slow down to a less suicidal speed. "I came by your place to pick up my chess set. There's shit thrown all over, looks like you're trying to skip town or something. What the hell, Shrimp?"

"Pops," Booth's knuckles whiten with restrained anxiety as he drives one handed, Hank's voice growling into his ear.

"Don't you dare tell me nothing! I can hear it in your voice."

"Should've let it go to voicemail," Booth grumbles in an undertone, expertly taking a left turn without slowing his speed or taking the phone away from his head.

"I heard that, smartass."

A mocking shadow of a smile teases the edges of Booths' mouth but is gone before he can even register the movement. "I don't want you to worry, Pops. I'm-"

"Handling it. Yeah, yeah, you always handle it," Hank sighs heavily with concern. He can't help but worry that, with Brennan's absence, his grandson's gambling addiction has taken hold of him. "Maybe I can help."

Booth shakes his head, grudgingly slowing to a stop at a red traffic light. "Not this time."

"You can talk to me, at least, can't you? Or Temperance. Have you tried telling her, getting that huge brain of hers working for ya?"

Twin icy stabs of pain puncture through his stomach and heart at her name. His arms are heavy with the ache to hold her, to just hold her without words, so that he would know that she was safe.

"Bones." Booth clears his throat, stabbing his foot down forcefully as the light changes to green. "I'm going down to Guatemala to get her, Pops."

"What? She's ok, isn't she? She get sick or something?"

"There's, ah, there's a situation." Booth tightens his fingers around his phone in a death grip. "I'm going to bring her back."

There's silence as Hank lowers himself into a kitchen chair. He wipes his mouth with a hand shaking with fear for his grandchildren. "What can I do?"

"Just know I'm bringing her back." Unable to stand anymore he hangs up. He takes a deep shuddering breath, getting his emotions back under control as he takes the turn to the Hodgins estate.

* * *

><p>"I am not comfortable with that," Zack shakes his head, back away with his hands raised.<p>

"Zack, come on man," Hodgins crowds his space, blues blazing. "I need you to. Man up!"

"Hodgins-"

"Zack, my wife is pregnant," Jack speaks softly but desperately. "She's worried sick about her kidnapped best friend. I need to know that someone is here, keeping an eye on her in case the worst happens. Please, man."

Zack tightens his lips but nods. "But I refuse to accompany her in her doctor's appointment."

"Yeah, pretty damn sure she'll refuse too," Hodgins slaps his arm, making him wince.

Together they turn to watch Booth's car travel the long driveway until it stops in front of the steps they're standing on. Hodgins bends down to grab his bags as Booth jogs up to them.

"Alright, you got the info I need to get on the plane?"

"Yup, we won't have a problem," Hodgins walks past the FBI agent, opening the back passenger door.

"We? Hell no, there is no fucking we," Booth growls as Hodgins ignores him and packs his stuff into the car. "Hodgins-"

"I'm going," Hodgins says loudly, steel ringing in his voice and shining coldly from his eyes. "We can sit here bitching about it, or we can get our asses in the car and get the fuck to Brennan. She's my family, too."

Booth stares him down, torn between wanting his company and knowing just how far he's willing to go to get his Bones back; having Hodgins with him might hold him back from doing what's necessary.

"Angela can't be left alone, Jack."

"She won't be," Zack steps forward, determination lighting his eyes. "I'm going to take care of her until you come back with Brennan."

"Focus on what needs to be done," Angela steps out of the house, her eyes zeroing in on Booth's. "Let Jack smooth the way and handle the details. You bring her back."

Booth nods, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. For a moment they stand together, an odd group that on the outside makes no sense in being together. But they're family, bonded together tightly with worry for one of their own. Without any words they separate, Zack moving to stand by Angela as Hodgins and Booth climb into the car. With one final nod they leave, Booth waiting until the gates close behind them before telling Hodgins his plan.

* * *

><p>"Okay. Come on," Brennan chants under her breath, fingers picking at the frayed ropes around her feet. "Almost got it. Come on. Come on."<p>

Finally she feels the ropes give a little, the tight pain around her swelling ankle loosens. With a sigh, she leans back, giving her aching back a small reprieve from hunching.

"Lindsay?"

"They're too tight," she answers, her grunts expressing her obvious struggle to free her hands. Brennan frowns in concern and opens her mouth just as Lindsay lets out a small scream of frustration. "I can't!"

They sit quietly, the silence broken only by Lindsay's pants.

"You have to keep trying," Brennan finally says, her voice soft but fierce.

Lindsay's deep, exhausted sigh seems to add more weight to the oppressive darkness. "I know. I will. But…Temperance, have you gotten your feet free yet?"

"Almost. The ropes are loose, I could slip my feet out if I tried."

"Good. Good. If you get the chance…run. No matter where I am."

"No Lindsay!" Brennan instantly protests, rebelling against the thought with her every fiber.

"My foot is broken!" Lindsay's angry voice echoes against the walls, silencing Brennan. Lindsay continues in a lower voice, though the fierceness is just as strong. "I can't run, even if I got the ropes off. But you can. So if the opportunity presents itself, you run. You get away and bring back help. I'm not giving up. I'm seeing my children again. But I'm not going to be able to run out of here. Promise me."

Tears flow out of her eyes as Brennan shakes her head, but she knows better. Lindsay is right, it's their only chance. It burns her stomach to contemplate doing something so cowardly, but she has to be logical. Despite the horrid feeling in her heart, she opens her mouth to promise but heavy footsteps reverberate around them. Quickly she grabs up the removed ropes from her hands and scoots back into her original spot, the ropes around her feet loosening even more at the motion. Though it pains her wrist to brush against the coarse ropes, she forces them through the widened loops.

Body coiled tight, she stares at the door, listening to the footsteps come closer. More than one, she determines, possibly up to five. One has an uneven step, potentially an injury in their lower leg. She nods. Good- she can use any weakness she can find. The footsteps stop, right in front of her door she can tell as their feet block the meager light coming from underneath. She brings her legs up, angling back so that she leaning slightly against the wall behind her, ready to strike with her legs. The lock clicks in the door and a blinding light bores into her eyes.

Cursing, she turns her head as feet rush towards her. Angrily she kicks out but meets nothing but air. The light cuts off and by the stale smell she knows that once again her head is covered. Rough calloused hands grab each of her arms and lift her. She is carried away, her toes barely grazing the floor. Behind her she can hear Lindsay stifling moan of pain. She feels them go up a steep set of stairs and then she feels the blessed breeze of fresh air against her skin.

The heavy material of the hood over her face restricts her breathing and she soon loses her bearings as she is being dragged along. Abruptly they stop and she is forced to her knees in a painful shove. Beside her, she hears Lindsay release a small whimper. The hoods are whipped off and for a few bewildering moments all she can do is blink against the harsh light. As her vision clears, a pair of coal black eyes stare into hers.

The man has obviously spent years out in the elements, his skin dark and leathery looking from the sun. An angry red scar runs from his twisted chapped lips to his left eye, which is looking at her with less compassion then an exterminator would show an ant.

"Te llamas?" He barks in a scratchy voice, his foul breath coating her face. He repeats himself, rising his hand to lightly slap her right cheek. "Huh? Te llamas puta.

She stares coldly back, bracing for a harder slap. It doesn't come, the man just shifts over to do the same routine with Lindsay. She uses the time to glance around and catalogue what she sees. They are outside with dense jungle growth around them, sitting against the wall of what must be the building they were kept in as all the other structures around are crudely made huts. Five feet to her left is a soldier, skinny and young, she would guess no older than 19. She can hear male voices somewhere behind her, can smell the smoke she can only guess is a campfire. To her right, no more than ten feet away is the dense jungle, seeming to wait to hide her if only she can get to it.

The man moves back to her, following the same pattern. But no his slap is a little harder, stings a little more. Brennan holds her ground, back straight as her eyes stare ice into his. He gives her one last slap, a smirk starting to emerge on his twisted mouth. Brennan looks away from that sickening face, looking down as Lindsay receives a slap. Her breath pauses; there on the ground is a rock, the perfect size to fit in her hand and with deadly point on one side. Carefully, keeping an eye on the young soldier, she starts to wiggle her feet and slide her hands out of the ropes. She calculates her chances if she lunges for the rock, but fears that she'll be too slow. She notices the young soldier releasing his gun to hand on his shoulder, digging into his pockets for a packet of cigarettes. Brennan turns to the leather faced man, who by the smile forming on his face is really enjoying slapping the two women.

"Why do you continue to speak in Spanish?" Brennan bursts out in a hostile voice. The man turns narrow eyes to Brennan, behind him the younger soldier frowning at his lighter as he shakes it, a cigarette hanging from his lips. "Obviously we don't understand and one of you speaks English. I heard hi-"

Her face explodes in flames of heat, her body flailing to her side with the backhanded slap. The man moves to crouch in front of her with a mocking smile. His mouth opens but no words come out as blood gushes down his face. Brennan doesn't hesitate, she releases the bloody rock and surges to her feet, headed straight for the darkest part of the jungle. She doesn't see the young soldier jerk out of his shock to fumble with his gun. She doesn't see Lindsay smile as tears course down her face. She doesn't turn back to see if she's being followed. She just runs, breath panting, pain from her foot almost choking her. She runs deep into the jungle, begging the universe that Lindsay survives and forgives her.

**First I want to thank all of you who have reviewed and PMed me during my little hiatus. My life has gone through a lot of turmoil, this has been the worse summer/fall of my life. That is the only excuse and explanation I can give. **

**My wonderful friend and beta musicnlyrics looked over this for me, so if you find any mistakes their her fault (jk jk lol). **

**Please review, let me know what you think about the story.**


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